Shades of Grey
by mandamedieval
Summary: During the months preceding her 17th birthday, Roselyn Martell must make a very important decision. But when she has to choose between life, love, freedom and morality, will her choice lead her to the darkness, the light or will she be stuck in the grey?
1. Worries

"_Life is not always black and white."_  
"_The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters."_  
"_We are Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light."_

**Shades of Grey  
**1. Worries

* * *

The bell rang loudly in her ears for the twelfth time. Noon. With a deep breath, Roselyn Martell put on the best smile she could muster as the doors in front of her swung open. The people around her stood in respect, waiting for her to enter. She felt like she was going to be sick. Roselyn gathered whatever ounce of dignity she had left, and took her first few steps down the aisle.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Rosie! Rosie, for Merlin's sake, wake up!"

"Go away," she groaned, flailing her arm behind her in an attempt to swat away her friend. "It's Saturday morning."

A sigh. "No, it's not. It's Tuesday. Honestly, you think every morning is Saturday."

"It should be," Rose whined, sitting up in bed. "Daph, you should really consider letting me sleep every now and again."

"Maybe if you weren't always up half the night, you wouldn't have this problem. Now get up. I want to get breakfast before class."

She didn't need telling twice. Once breakfast had been mentioned, nothing could keep Rose in bed. She dressed quickly into her robes, grabbed her school bag and ran to meet Daphne Greengrass in the Common Room. She, as always, tripped on the single step up into the Common Room, and nearly fell until someone caught her.

"Oh, good morning, Draco," she chirped.

"Pleasure as always, Roselyn," he replied formally. She rolled her eyes and continued off to breakfast with Daphne. They took the first two empty seats that they could spot.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Rose asked, stuffing a piece of toast into her mouth.

"As always, we have Advanced Potions first. Did you do your essay?"

"Not a chance."

"Of course not. Then, Double Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms," she finished.

"Did we have homework there?"

"Not tonight, lucky for you," she shook her head. "Would it kill you to do your homework?"

"Actually, it would. I would literally burst into flames and die. Do you want that for me? I didn't think so. Pass the eggs."

**. . .**

"Essay, Miss Martell?"

"Sorry, Professor, I left it in the Dormitory. Do you think I could get it to you by the end of the day?"

"Again?" Professor Slughorn asked. Rose grinned sheepishly. "Before dinner."

"Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!" she said excitedly.

The moment he turned his back, Rose snatched the essay off the desk behind her, Confounding the Gryffindor boy that it belonged to. If she wasn't stuck sitting in the front and having her essay always checked first, she wouldn't have this problem.

**. . .**

Rose threw herself in front of Blaise Zabini, landing on the armchair before he could sit down. He stared down at her, forming a small 'o' with his lips.

"I was here first," she smiled. Blaise stood there a minute and then proceeded to sit down on top of her. "No! Get off!"

"You cheated," he replied. "This is my seat."

"Come on, Blaise, don't be such a git," Daphne sighed, taking a seat on the couch.

He stood up. "This isn't over, Martell," he threatened playfully. Rose rolled her eyes.

As the rain picked up on the lake above, everyone gathered in the Common Room, settling into their usual places on the couches and chairs. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson sauntered in, flanked by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

"Move, Martell, I want to sit there," Pansy whined. Her voice sent a shrill of annoyance through Rose.

"I'm sorry, you what? I couldn't hear you over that high-pitched shrieking," she replied, pretending to clean her ear out with her finger.

"What shrieking?"

"Oh! There it is again! Jesus, Parkinson, is that your voice that's doing that?"

Pansy huffed angrily and went to sit in the chair opposite the table in front of the fire. Draco shot Rose a scolding look to which she replied by sticking out her tongue.

"One day, you'll push her too far," Daphne whispered.

"Relax, I'm just messing around."

Once everyone had settled in and calmed down, the conversation flowed more freely. At first, everyone talked amongst themselves. Rose with Daphne, Blaise with Draco while Pansy drew circles on his leg, and even Vincent and Gregory discussed trivial facts amongst themselves. But, eventually, the conversations all blended into one. It was innocent enough at first, but quickly turned to a subject that Rose had no intention of touching upon.

"So, Roselyn," Pansy sneered from Draco's lap, which she had so obnoxiously settled herself into. "Your seventeenth birthday is coming up, isn't it?"

"Yes, in a few months. So?" Rose replied acidly.

"Well, we all know what that means," she continued condescendingly. "And you don't seem to be making any effort to be ready for it."

"I don't need to make an effort. Unlike you, guys don't cringe away from me. It won't be a problem."

Just as the words left her mouth she knew that, yes, it will indeed be a problem. When she was a little girl, she dreamed for her seventeenth birthday because she had this silly notion in her head that she would be in love, and everything would be perfect. Of course, now she knew that it was just a fairytale dream and the real truth of it is, there's nothing perfect or romantic or ethical about any of it. Though she wouldn't know for sure until Christmas holiday, she had a pretty good idea of who her choices were, and frankly, she wasn't pleased about it.

"Any of you going to Slughorn's party on Friday?" Blaise chimed in, cutting the conversation short, much to Rose's relief.

"No, Blaise, no one is a suck-up enough to be in that ridiculous Slug Club," Daphne snorted.

"It's okay to be jealous, Daphne. But since you're being so rude about it, I'm not going to invite you to come with me."

"Right, as if I really would have said yes," she scoffed. "You know me better than that."

"Sure, whatever you say," he nodded, then turned to Rose. "Rose, you should come with me."

"No, thank you. It's just going to be a party with a bunch of Gryffindors. The last thing I want to do is be around Potter and his gang a second more than is necessary," she answered, distaste colouring her face.

"But it'll be fun. There'll be music and food and me, of course. No one can resist that."

"Oh, look, I'm resisting it."

"Great! So I'll meet you in the Common Room at eight, then?" he decided. Rose did a double take.

"What? No! Didn't you just hear me say no?"

"No," he replied and stood up. "I'm going to bed. Good night, mates."

With that, he left, winking at Rose as he passed. She gawked after him. Did he really think so highly of himself as to…ARGH.

"Rosie, are you feeling okay?" Daphne asked, worried.

"No. I'm going kill him. I swear it I will. He's so annoying! I could just—," she cut off as she made a wringing gesture with her hands. Everyone laughed, and the mood immediately lightened. That is, until Pansy decided to ruin it, again.

"Well, I'm not worried about my seventeenth birthday at all," she announced, then nuzzled Draco's neck. He sat still as a stone, dark purple shadows forming under his eyes.

Rose pretended to be oblivious. "Why is that, Parkinson?"

"Well, because I've got Draco, of course!" she squealed delightfully. "I mean, father says I can't officially choose until four months before my birthday like everyone else, but we all know it's going to be him."

Rose bit back a laugh. "Right, good luck with that."

Daphne wasn't so kind. She doubled up in hysterics. "Oh, that is too good," she gasped in short breaths.

Pansy crossed her arms. "It's not funny, Greengrass! I'm serious."

Daphne took deep, calming breaths. "Oh, I'm sure you are. I'm just saying, good luck with that. But, if I remember correctly, you're the youngest of all the girls in our year," she pointed out.

"So?"

"So, who's to say someone won't snatch Draco up before you?"

"That will never happen," she protested, but her face was panicked. This time, Rose had to cut in with a chuckle.

"Yeah, Parkinson, I'm going first. And, well, frankly, I think Draco is just damn sexy," she said, winking at him to show that she was just kidding.

"Don't you fucking dare!" she screamed, standing up in outrage. Rose reeled back, shock on her face.

"Whoa, relax! I was joking!" she cried, putting her hands up in front of her face. Draco, who had been quiet throughout the entire exchange, finally stepped in.

"Pansy, baby, relax. You know she just loves pissing you off. Don't let her get to you," he cooed, pulling her back onto his lap. "And, Roselyn, can you please stop being such a bitch?"

Rose glared at him.

"Okay! Well!" Daphne clapped her hands together. "This was fun. I'm going to bed. Coming, Rosie?"

"No, you go ahead," she said, still glaring at Draco. Daphne shook her head, and disappeared into the passageway leading to the Girls' Dormitory.

"It's probably time for us to go, too, Draco," Pansy whined, standing up to interrupt the eye-lock Rose and Draco had on each other.

"Sure," he nodded. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Pansy piped sweetly.

Rose wanted to gag. Draco kissed her cheek, and she disappeared after Daphne. He motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to leave, then took his seat back on the chair he had previously occupied.

"What the hell was that?" Rose asked, angry.

"What was what?"

"Don't you even try that with me, Draco Malfoy! Who do you think you are, putting me down like that?"

"Calm down, Martell," he rolled his eyes. All pretenses of formal addressing were gone now that they were alone.

"I'm so tired of this, Malfoy," she sighed. "It's every day with you."

"It's not my fault you act like bitch to her."

"She deserves it!" Rose defended.

"No, she doesn't. She's a pain in the ass, yes, but you're only provoking her further."

"Might as well have a little bit of fun with it," she mumbled.

He sighed impatiently, stood up and crossed the small area toward her. A few people walked past him, into the Dormitories, and they paused to look at the exchange before Draco shot them all scathing looks. The Common Room was mostly empty now except for 3 fourth years sitting together in the upper part of the split-level room. Draco took a seat at the edge of the couch, leaning toward Rose.

"Listen to me," he whispered in a low voice. "I'm not going to ask you again. Leave Pansy alone. I'm sick and tired of having to hold her back from ripping off your face every time you provoke her. I don't know what your problem is with her, but you're both Slytherins, for crying out loud. If you haven't noticed, not many people from the other Houses like us very much, so I suggest you take what you've got and appreciate it. If you pull something like this again, I won't hold her back, understand?"

"Go to hell, Malfoy," she spat, and stood up, leaving him in the Common Room alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** To all of my new readers, welcome! And a very, very big 'Welcome back!' to my old readers. I have big plans in store for this story, so I beg you to give it a chance. The beginning was slow and short, I know. To be honest, it's mostly just character development and plot introduction. It gets better, I swear. :)

So, thank you for stopping by, and I hope to see you next week!


	2. Not Caring

**Shades of Grey  
**2. Not Caring

**Disclaimer:** I definitely do not own any of this. It's all JK Rowling's. :)  
**Author's Note:** It's taken a bit more than a week to do this. I really hope I can get into it and start getting these out quicker, because the summer seems to be going by rather fast.

* * *

For as long as she can remember being at Hogwarts, Rose never recalled waking up on her own in time for class. The benefit of living in the dungeons is that the annoyance of sunlight streaming through the window in the early hours of the morning was never a problem. The dark is also advantageous in making her roommates too tired in the morning to be loud as they get ready, which decreases the chances of noise waking her up. The dungeons were the perfect place to sleep in late, and Rose made sure to take full advantage.

On their very first day of school six years ago, Daphne took it upon herself to wake Rose up for class every morning. She found this task to be increasingly more difficult as the years went on. As she got older, Rose began staying up later and becoming more stubborn about not waking up in the morning. By this point, it took a good five minutes of convincing every morning to make any progress. The promise of food was the only thing that kept Rose from laying down and falling back to sleep once she had already woken.

So, why, after all these years, did Rose suddenly find herself wide awake at…HALF PAST FIVE?! She couldn't possibly imagine what would make her wake up so early. She guessed it might have had something to do with the nightmare that left her pores sweating and her heart racing, but this was just a guess. She couldn't even remember having a nightmare. There were no axe-wielding murderers or horrific creatures. She wasn't being chased by inferi, her soul wasn't being sucked out by dementors, there were no grindylows dragging her down to the deepest parts of the ocean.

Yet, when she closed her eyes to go back to sleep, anxiety rose in her chest, causing her to sit up in bed once more. She tried to shake off the bad feeling, but when that didn't work, she gave up. Rose got out of bed and walked out to the Common Room. She laid down on the sofa that her friends normally occupied and tried closing her eyes there. Panic shot up her spine.

"Please," she pleaded out loud with herself. "It's five-bloody-thirty in the morning. I swear, I won't ask you for anything ever again, just please, for the love of Merlin, go to sleep."

"Who are you talking to?"

Rose sat up so fast, she lost her balance and fell off the sofa. She lay on the ground, hoping that she gave herself a concussion, and would pass out. Yeah, she was that desperate for sleep. Unfortunately, she had no such luck. With a groan, she used the edge of the table to push herself up to her feet and face Draco Malfoy.

It was almost hard to recognize him at first glance. His hair was messy, like he had run his hand through it at least a hundred times within the past hour alone. He had his robe slung over his arm, and his shirt was wrinkled as though he had thrown it in a pile of clothes somewhere and only put it on before coming into the Common Room. She could see where the shirt clung to his sweaty body. It would have been enough to shock Rose at just his appearance, for Draco had always carried himself well, but that wasn't the worst of it. His face was the worst of it. Hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, something that looked like dust or dirt was smeared across his face, he had a cut on his cheek, and his eyes were haunting. The bags under them suggested that he hadn't slept for days. The silver colour had distilled into nothing but a dull grey. It was horrific to see.

"Draco, what happened to you?" Rose asked in genuine concern.

"What? Oh, nothing. Who were you talking to?" he asked again.

"Oh, I was trying to convince myself to fall asleep," she replied lamely. "Answer my question. What happened to you? You look an absolute mess! Have you been out all night?"

Draco shrugged and started walking toward the Dormitory. Rose stood in his path. He tried to walk past her, but she stood her ground, not letting him through. She stared into his cold , grey eyes, searching for an unspoken answer to her question.

"Draco, what happened?"

"I already told you; nothing happened," he insisted. "Now, can I please get to bed? I'm tired."

"You're bleeding," Rose pointed out casually, stepping aside.

"Oh, bullocks, am I?" He wiped his hand across his cheek and examined the blood. "It better not leave a scar, or I swear I will…"

He continued to mutter to himself as he pushed past Rose and walked down the stone passageway to his Dormitory. She stared after him, completely thunderstruck by what just occurred. The look that flitted across his face when she had asked what happened to him really worried her. She never before felt concern for anyone by the likes of Draco, but her gut went cold at seeing him tonight. She couldn't place whether he was panicked, upset, worried, or scared. But something, whatever it was, made his nostrils flare and his pupils dilate when she pressed the issue. Some part of her wanted to find out what was going on, but another part wanted nothing to do with it.

She decide to go with option B, and, instead, return to her attempt at sleeping.

**. . .**

Draco wasn't in class that morning. If it weren't for the simple fact that his annoyingly-blond head always sat in front of her, Rose might not have noticed. Or so that's what she told herself. She refused to believe that she had kept her eyes out for Draco all morning, very worried for his well-being. She really wasn't close enough friends with him to care. Yet she couldn't rid the vision of his empty eyes and ruined appearance from her mind.

When McGonagall asked her for the answer to a question she had not heard, Rose mumbled something about a headache, and requested permission to go to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall looked sceptical, but after seeing the look on Rose's face, granted her permission, and turned to Daphne, seeking the answer Rose had failed to produce.

Rose strolled lazily through the halls, hoping to clear her head and calm down. After about ten minutes of aimless wandering, she decided to go to the Common Room, and prepare for her afternoon classes. On her way, she saw Draco sprinting out from the dungeons, heading toward the marble staircase.

"Draco!" she called after him.

He seemed to hesitate a moment, probably wondering whether to ignore her and keep going. Then, he slowed down and turned to look at her. He looked better now. Showered, clean. The bags under his eyes weren't any lighter, which meant he probably wasn't very rested, but he at least appeared better.

"Yes, Roselyn?" he asked.

Rose looked around to see if they were alone, wondering why he was being so formal. "Can we talk?"

"No," he said, "I have places to be."

"Just for a minute," she assured.

Draco cast a few looks over his shoulder, and then nodded. He continued up the staircase; Rose followed. When they had reached the second floor, or maybe it was the third, he turned abruptly and led her into a remote corridor, away from anywhere that would be walked in on purposely, or probably even accidentally. Rose didn't see the need for the secrecy; everyone was in class at the moment.

"Go on," he whispered urgently. "Talk."

"Well, uh, I want to know what happened to you last night. You were a wreck."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied stiffly.

"What do you mean you don't know what I'm talking about? It was just a few hours ago. Draco, what's going on?"

"I don't know what you're up to, Martell, but stop it. You don't care. I know you better than that. Drop it, alright? I had a bit of a rough night. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get to class. Goodbye."

He left, then. He walked away, leaving Rose to stand in the small, deserted corridor alone. She herself wasn't quite sure what she was up to. He was right; she didn't care. Or, well, every character trait she had would suggest that she couldn't. A familiar anxiety rose in her chest, and she shook it off. Who cares, right? It was probably nothing.

**. . .**

For the next two days, she ignored Draco. Not once did she examine his eyes, which were now completely bruised from lack of sleep. She didn't pay attention to the way he always seemed to be a mile away, thinking about something else and not hearing the conversation around him. The worry that constantly creased his eyebrow was never of concern to her. She failed to notice his sudden disappearances during lunch and dinner. She never glanced at him during class, wondering why on Earth he was acting this way. Not a single thought about Draco Malfoy crossed her mind.

That is, not until Friday.

"Ready to go?" Blaise asked, standing over her.

"Go where?" Rose retorted, looking up from her game of Exploding Snaps.

"To Slughorn's party," he replied, as if it should have been obvious.

"I already told you I'm not going."

"You should go," Daphne muttered lazily. "Maybe it'll be fun. And, in any case, you can always enjoy yourself by hexing a few of those Gryffindors. Much more fun than sitting around here, anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead," she nodded before the cards in front of her blew up.

"Give me five minutes," Rose sighed.

Blaise's smug look didn't make the arrangement any more pleasant, but she ran into her dormitory to change. Without really deciding to put much effort into it, she threw on a pair of lavender dress robes, and ran her fingers through her loose curls. Not that it really mattered; she probably wouldn't stay.

"Ready," she announced as she entered the Common Room. Blaise's smirk widened. She ignored him.

The party was nothing interesting to be held. The decorations were of the plainest variety. Emerald, crimson, and gold hangings adorned the ceiling and walls. Real fairies fluttered in a lamp, producing a golden light over the large room. Everyone in there was, as Rose as had guessed, a Gryffindor. Okay, well, not everyone, but she really could barely tell the difference anymore.

"Butterbeer?" Blaise asked, handing her a bottle.

"Sure, thanks," she replied absently. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Go right ahead," he nodded.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Nevermind."

He raised his eyebrow, but clearly decided he didn't care enough to ask. He took a chug of his butterbeer, and looked around the crowd. He was probably searching for someone he knew, but Rose had a funny feeling that he wasn't friends with anyone here. She bit back a laugh. Apparently, he gave up, and turned back to Rose.

"So, you're seventeen soon, eh?" he asked.

"Er, yeah, in April," she replied.

"So, you and I, we're going to be pretty nice together, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You are choosing me, aren't you?" he asked. A split second of hesitation crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a smirk. "Of course you are."

She gave him a disbelieving look, then decided to ignore it and said, "This party is terrible."

"Let's leave, then," he said.

This shocked her, but she nodded, seizing the opportunity. Blaise led her out of the room. They hadn't gotten more than a few steps away from Slughorn's office when Rose stopped.

"Can we go somewhere private? I need to talk to you," she said.

For a second, the look on his face worried her. "Sure, thing," he said, and started leading her down the hall. They passed several doors before Blaise pushed open a plain wooden one at the end of the corridor and led them into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind him and motioned for her to sit. She planted herself on top of one of the desks.

"What did you need?" he asked, stepping in front of her.

"I was wondering…," she began, then stopped.

Was it okay to bring this up with someone else? Draco didn't seem keen on sharing his issues with her, so would he mind if she went blabbing it all to someone else? She hesitated for a moment longer, then decided that she didn't care. When she opened her mouth to continue her question, Blaise's face was suddenly right in front of her. Before she could move away, he crushed his lips to hers. She tried to push him away, but he held the back of her head securely. She kissed him back instinctively, and he took that as an invitation to continue. Blaise suddenly pulled away.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?" she spat, wiping her mouth.

"I think someone is coming."

Sure enough, voices sounded outside of the door. Rose grabbed Blaise's hand and pulled him into the broom cupboard to their right. She shut the door just before the classroom one opened.

"Get in," hissed a familiar voice.

"Is that Snape?" she mouthed. "Blaise, stop touching me."

"What the hell were you thinking, Draco?"

"I don't know what you mean," Draco replied crossly.

"You're messing up Draco. These are juvenile slip-ups. First you curse Katie Bell, and now you're caught wandering around by Filch! Have you no brain?"

"I didn't curse her," Draco cried out.

Snape seemed to have ignore him as he continued. "We cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled—"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you're telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" said Draco angrily. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about—don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work—I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah…Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thought are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from _him_, I just don't want _you_ butting in!"

Rose shot a questioning look at Blaise, but he seemed just as shocked as she was to hear this.

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco—"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" jeered Draco.

There was another pause. Snape said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!"

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low now that Rose and Blaise pressed their ears up against the door to hear. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco—"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

"What is your plan?"

"It's none of your business!"

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you—"

"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridor without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes—"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"

"Keep your voice down," spat Snape, for Draco's voice had risen excitedly. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defence Against the Dark Arts O. W. L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres—"

"What does it matter?" said Draco. "Defence Against the Dark Arts—it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts—"

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle—"

"They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can—"

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but—"

Rose wasn't sure why Snape had stopped until, two seconds later, the door to the classroom opened. She heard Snape mutter something, but it was too low for her to understand. Her and Blaise stayed in the broom closet for another five minutes, ears pressed against the door, listening for anyone still in the room. When they finally thought it was safe, they stepped out. The room was empty, the door left open.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Rose breathed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hope everyone enjoyed that. We're going to be launching into Christmas holiday in the next chapter, which is going to be very nice, so I hope to see you there!  
**Additional Disclaimer:** Everything from the line "'...cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled—'" to the line "'I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but—'" was directly taken from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _(Chapter 15, Pages 322-324), with a few minor exceptions.


	3. And So The Story Begins

**Shades of Grey  
**3. And So The Story Begins

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Sometimes I dream about owning the Harry Potter universe. Not really, but it's far-fetched enough to be a dream.  
**Author's Note:** I know, I know, why is it taking me so long to get these things out? Well, I'm sorry! I actually have distractions. Anyway, my original goal today was to finish this and have it out for Harry's and Jo's birthday, but seeing as it's 2:30 in the morning, I missed that deadline. But, regardless, Happy Birthday Harry Potter, JK Rowling, and Joey Richter. (I decided Joey deserved to be included as he does, technically, portray Ron Weasley.) Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

She turned slowly on the spot to look at Blaise. He stood in the middle of the room with his mouth open slightly. After a few seconds, he sat on top of one of the desks. She stared at him for a moment and then said,

"I'm guessing you didn't know."

"No, I didn't," he answered slowly. Then his confused expression turned to one of irritation. "You'd think I would know, right? I mean, I'm supposed to be the guy's best friend. Leave it to Draco to pull something like this. He told Crabbe and Goyle for Merlin's sake! _Crabbe and Goyle!_ He has better people? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I have half a mind to punch him in the face, or throw a few curses his way, at least. This is ridiculous. You know what I think it is? He's jealous. Yeah, that's it! It has to be! He's jealous that if he told me what he was up to, I'd end up doing it better. Can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. He was always jealous of me, you know. I don't exactly blame him. How could he not be? I'm smarter, richer, more handsome, have more friends—Wow! It's so obvious now!"

He continued to rant to himself as Rose slipped out of the door inconspicuously. She could hear his nonsensical monologue all the way down the hall. As the sound of his voice grew dimmer, the stone wall of the Common Room became visible. Muttering the password, she stepped in to find the place nearly deserted. It must have been getting late. She headed toward the dormitories, but stopped when she saw a blond head out of the corner of her eye. She paused, thought about her options, and continued walking toward her room.

She could have confronted Draco now about what she heard, but there were several reasons that ran through her mind in those few seconds after seeing him on the sofa that convinced her not to.

One, she didn't want to admit that she had been eavesdropping. On the one hand, she didn't do it on purpose, but on the other hand, it was so below her to hide in a broom cupboard and listen in on other people's conversations.

Two, previous encounters taught her that confronting Draco about his private matters usually ended with him telling her to piss off, maybe not in so many words, but the message was always clear. So, why would she waste her time and breath asking him questions to which she would get no real answers?

Three, it wasn't her business. If he hadn't bothered to tell his best mate, why would he tell her? They weren't that close of friends. The two of them have been skating along the comfortable line of friends and acquaintances since their first day at school more than six years ago. She wasn't about to cross that line into the "friends" territory over something that didn't even concern her.

Three and a half,—after deliberation, she decided to make this three and a half because it was too closely related to point three to be point four, but not closely enough related to be in the same point—she didn't even _want_ to be friends with him. He wasn't exactly her type. She didn't dislike him, of course not. Being close enough to be friends with him would definitely throw things off balance. It wasn't even him that was the problem. It was the people he called his closest mates. Crabbe and Goyle, for one, were stupid as stupid can get, and Rose, while not the exactly the brightest witch of her year, didn't enjoy the prospect of being in close ties with them. Then there was Pansy. It was wrong to say she hated anyone in her own house, let alone her year, but boy did she hate Pansy! She couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but something about her made Rose grind her teeth together. As for Blaise, he was just an annoying little twit. He tried much too hard to be just like—or even better than—Draco, and it was pathetic and a pain.

Three and three quarters,—last one in the three category, promise—being more than just barely-friends with Draco would be succumbing to her parents' wishes, and that is a territory into which she will never venture. It's been years, and she hoped they would have gotten over it by now, but of course they're too stubborn for that. They just needed to find their daughter useful, she guessed. Now's not the time for that gruesome back story, though.

She shook her head, letting the thoughts fall out of her mind. Grinding her teeth together, she tried to get back on track. What was she thinking about? Oh, yeah, the points.

Four, she didn't care. Simple as that. Sure, it bothered her some that there was something going that she didn't know about, but when it really came down to it, she didn't care about what was going on with Draco so much as she cared about what was going on in the school. Whatever Draco was going through probably would never affect her or anyone else directly, so she just had to ignore it.

Nodding her head satisfactorily to herself, she climbed into bed and tried to sleep, with immediate success.

**. . .**

The next morning, the dormitories were in a frenzy. Everyone was chattering excitedly about the Christmas holiday. They made plans with each other, handed out invitations for parties, and promised to keep in touch. Rose rolled her eyes as she heard Pansy bragging about the custom-made dress robes that she planned to wear on Christmas Eve. Rose made to leave before the conversation turned to Christmas Eve festivities, but she wasn't quite coordinated enough to make a stealthy escape. She knocked into the side of Daphne's trunk—which sat at the foot of her bed like it did every day of the year—and yelped loudly. Pansy turned her ugly brown eyes on her.

"_Roselyn_," she drawled annoyingly. "I was just telling Millicent about the _gorgeous_ periwinkle dress robes I'm wearing for Christmas Eve. Draco is wearing his in navy, to match. Who are _you_ wearing to match with, Rose?"

Her tone dripped with condescension. Pansy knew perfectly well that Rose never went with anyone to the Christmas Eve party, but she always found the need to point it out publicly, even if no one but the two of them were listening.

"I'm not matching with anyone, Parkinson," she replied. Pansy's smirk widened. Rose finished, "Because that's stupid, and I'm not eleven."

"You say that now," Pansy sneered, "But if you had an actual date, you might not be so pathogenic about it."

"Pathogenic?" Rose repeated with raised eyebrows. "Parkinson, you really shouldn't try to exert your brain with big words, because unless I'm contracting or creating some sort of disease by disliking matching dress robes, you're misusing the word."

"Whatever," she spat dismissively and turned back to Millicent.

Rose rolled her eyes a second time and continued walking out of the dormitory. She walked—tripped—into the Common Room to see Daphne sitting on the sofa with her sister, Astoria. She was clasping a necklace onto her neck. She heard Daphne complain that Astoria was moving too much and Astoria complain in return that Daphne was taking too long. Rose stifled a giggle.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked.

"Trying to fasten this necklace, but Astoria is _moving too much_," she scowled.

"I wouldn't be moving so much if you would _hurry up_," he sister sniped back.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Daph, but you're kind of a witch," Rose interjected. Daphne looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Rose sighed, took her wand out of her pocket, and flicked it at Astoria who's necklace snapped itself shut.

"Oh, right," Daphne said, blushing a little. "Did you finish packing, then?"

"Packi…," Rose trailed off, the realization hitting her. "Shit!"

She could hear Daphne laughing behind her as she sprinted to her dormitory. Throwing her trunk open, she threw everything in at once. Her alarm clock, clothes, school books, quills, cauldron, wand, parchment, shoes—she paused to fish her wand back out, muttering to herself. Everything was thrown in very hurriedly and it made shutting the trunk a more difficult feat than usual, but she eventually managed to lock it. This happened ever goddamned time.

**. . .**

She clambered off of the Hogwarts Express, walking to the stack of trunks in order to locate hers. Sighing because her wand was now officially useless to her, she heaved her trunk with more force than necessary, and fell backwards.

An envelope was thrust into her face. "Here, Martell, give this to your parents," Draco said. Rose took the invitation and looked up.

"Do you want to help me up?" she snapped.

"No," he said simply and strode off to join his parents. Rose stared after him. What-a-jerk.

She stood, grumbling, and wiped off the back of her robes. Unfortunately, she knew this was just the beginning of the holidays. It could only get worse from here. Nothing was good about coming home for Christmas. Nothing.

"ALEX!" she shouted and ran, full force, into the waiting arms of Alexander Martell. Okay, well, maybe there was _something_ good about the holiday break.

Alex laughed, hugging her back. "Relax, Rosie, I'm not going to disappear."

"You're here early!" she accused, pulling away. She looked straight into his piercing blue eyes, searching for some hint of bad news, but all she found there was her deep buried jealousy. Piercing blue eyes. She hid a scowl.

"Yeah, well, Sora is spending the holiday with her mum," he shrugged.

"She won't be here?" frowned Rose.

"She'll come for Easter," he assured her, then looked over her shoulder. "Your trunk?"

"Oh!" she cried, and pointed toward it. Alex summoned it with his wand, and took her home.

**. . .**

As Rose unpacked her trunk, she immediately regretted leaving it to the last minute. Most of her quills lay broken, parchment ripped, clothes wrinkled. She grimaced at her broken quills, then frowned at her wand. If there was one thing she was looking forward to about being seventeen, it was being free to do magic outside of school. At this thought, an owl swooped in through her open window. She snatched the letter off of it's leg immediately and read it.

_You need to have a date for Christmas…Just come over._

Rose looked at the bit of parchment, and sighed. She grabbed the travelling cloak she had just recently draped over the door of her wardrobe and went downstairs. First she went to the broom cupboard by the front door and retrieved her Cleansweep Eleven, then she stuck her head into the kitchen.

"Alex, I'm going over to Daphne's," she announced.

"You're flying?" he asked.

"It's dark," she dismissed, and he shrugged an agreement.

When Rose stepped outside, the air hit her like a bucket of ice. She hadn't realized it was so cold, and thought about summoning a scarf and some gloves, but remembered that she couldn't do magic. Muttering to herself, she pulled her hood securely over her ears, and gripped the broom tightly, rising into the freezing air.

She flew over the houses of Upper Flagley. The rooftops were all a nearly-identical shade of red-brown, the lawns all the same kind of green,—which admittedly looked almost black now due to the lack of light—and best of all, there wasn't a muggle house in sight. She smiled as she left the town and began flying over Gravel pond. She flew low, just barely a foot from the water. She could clearly see her reflection in the dark water and was almost startled by it. The shore came all too soon and she pulled the broom up, stopping just before she crashed into Daphne's house. She flew the broom to Daphne's bedroom window, upstairs on the left, and rapped on the glass. Daphne jumped, startled.

"Let me in; it's cold!" Rose complained. It took Daphne a second to recognize her friend and throw open the window, through which she steered the broom agilely.

"You made it," Daphne stated.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed. So, what am I here for?"

"You need to have a date for Christmas," answered Daphne.

"Right, well, I've deduced that much from the owl. But _why_ do I need to have a date for Christmas?" Daphne mumbled something unintelligible. "Sorry, what?"

"I've already got one," she said a bit louder.

"What!" cried Rose. "What do you mean you've got one? Who?"

"Theodore Nott," she whispered, wincing.

"Okay, first: Ew. Second, we've gone stag to this thing since first year. Admittedly, we weren't really looking for guys at the age of eleven, but when we were both thirteen, and we couldn't round up decent dates, you promised me that we would go together every year. What gives?"

"Rosie, I'm sorry, okay? It's just that my four-month mark is coming up soon, and I really need to get moving."

Rose looked at the red-haired girl's pleading expression and sighed. "Okay, fine, but _Theodore Nott_?"

"Well, it was either him or Crabbe! I was backed into a corner," she defended.

Rose paused for a moment to consider Crabbe as the alternative, and nearly gagged. "Why not Blaise? At least he's nice-looking."

"I thought _you_ and Blaise were…," she trailed off, seeing Rose's horrified expression. "Nevermind."

Rose set her broom against the wall, and walked over to the dresser, looking at the pictures moving on the mirror. She grimaced as she saw a rather embarrassing one of herself from second year. She turned to see Daphne pulling out dress robes from her closet.

"Also," Daphne said, "You'll look really stupid showing up alone. I mean, even Millicent got a date. Look at these. Do you like these? I think I might wear them."

"Millicent got a date?" Rose repeated.

"With Goyle," shuddered Daphne, and Rose followed suit. "Just ask Blaise."

"Number one, he can ask me himself. Number two, I don't want to go with him! And besides, it's not like I'm going to be conscious long enough to give a damn."

"Oh, _please_ behave yourself this time."

"I always behave myself," Rose said.

"No, you don't. You always get way too drunk, way too early, and then I'm the one that has to look after you."

"That was, like, one time!"

"Four!" Daphne argued. "The Christmas party last year, Draco's birthday, my birthday, _your father's _birthday, and—oh, five—Marcus and Evanna's wedding!"

"My father had a birthday party?" Rose asked, incredulous.

Daphne smacked her palm to her face, shaking her head. "Just behave this time," she begged. "Now, about these robes," she continued.

"They're nice enough," Rose shrugged. "You should charm them. Remember that really lovely one your mum had cast on her own robes for Marcus' wedding? Something like that."

"It's not even worth it," Daphne groaned. "I need new ones."

They continued deliberating what Daphne should wear to the party for another half hour or so, until Rose finally decided it was time for her to get home.

When she got there, Alex was waiting for her.

"Mum and dad are pissed," he said when she walked in through the front door.

"Shocker," Rose mumbled under her breath.

"They're pissed off you went out the night before, well, tomorrow, you know."

"Alex, I was gone for 45 minutes, half a kilometre away at _Daphne's_, and it's, like, nine o'clock. I don't see a problem here!"

"Don't shoot the messenger, sis," he said, holding his hands up in a defensive position.

"Guess I'll have their shit to deal with in morning," she sighed, and trudged upstairs.

**. . .**

As predicted, she received a lengthy lecture from her parents the next morning. Much too early in the morning, she might add. Although, according to her parents, if she hadn't been "out half the night doing God knows what" she wouldn't have been so tired at eight o-bloody-clock. Yeah, right.

She pulled on the pair of lilac dress robes she had worn for the Yule Ball two years ago. They still fit well enough. She threw her hair up into one of those it-looks-like-I-spent-hours-on-my-hair-but-this-took-four-seconds kind of hairstyles, and walked downstairs. Her parents scowled. She grimaced. Alex smiled. She grinned back. They sat. They waited.

Rose fidgeted in her seat, impatient. In her opinion, the preliminaries were an unnecessary waste of time. She has known about this day since she was a little girl, and didn't need to hear every detail in a long, boring speech. But, alas, there was nothing she could do about it. This was all just part of the process; she had no choice but to endure it.

There came a knock. Rose's father, Christopher, went to open the front door behind which stood five familiar faces. Rose watched them file into the sitting room, all wearing dress robes of varying colours. Crabbe in burgundy and Goyle in rust-orange colour robes. Theodore sported very plain black robes, which stood in shocking comparison to Blaise's blue ones beside him. Draco stood with an air of arrogance surrounding his usual, green, tailored attire.

Christopher cleared his throat. "Well, now that we're all here. Let's get started, shall we?"

Rose bit back a retort. Christopher motioned for Rose to stand up. Alex and his mother had discreetly moved to stand against the back wall. Rose's father turned to look directly at her now.

"Roselyn Claire Martell," he began, while reading from an old piece of parchment, "Birth date 26th of April 1980. As a member of the Martell family, you are bound to certain traditions. As dictates ancient Wizarding tradition, though admittedly only kept now by the purest and truest of bloods, you have exactly four months before you come of age—that is, turn seventeen—" Rose resisted the urge to spew a rather colourful comment regarding her intelligence. "—to choose a respectable suitor which you will then be married to before your 18th birthday. Do you understand and accept these terms?"

"I do," she responded automatically. Christopher turned to the boys.

"Vincent Alan Crabbe, Gregory Raymond Goyle, Theodore Brian Nott, Blaise Darcio Zabini, Draco Lucius Malfoy," he continued, still reading the parchment, "Before the date of the 26th of April 1998 you will each be of the age of 17. Your status as wizards, and your family's participation in this great and ancient tradition, makes each of you an eligible candidate as Roselyn Claire Martell's fiancé. If chosen, you will be legally wed to Roselyn Claire Martell, unless otherwise decided by the Martell family. Do you understand and accept these terms?"

"I do," muttered Crabbe.

"I do," grunted Goyle.

"I do," nodded Theodore, bored.

"I do," agreed Blaise with an arrogant smirk.

"I do," purred Draco, not taking his eyes off of Rose.

Rose looked away, suddenly understanding why he was watching her with such intensity. The moment eye contact was broken, she felt Draco's gaze move away from her and, presumably, rest on her father. She settled for looking there, too.

"As the host family, we invite you for tea. If you would please follow my son Alexander into the dining room," he finished, and motioned for Alex to lead the boys through a door to the adjoining room.

Her parents waited for the door to close behind the last in line before rounding on her.

"This is the last time we have a chance to tell you this, Roselyn," her mother whispered hurriedly. "You've been a disappointment thus far, do not fail us here, too. Choose the Malfoy boy. He is our last hope of being what the Martells once were."

"I can't, _mum_," she spat the word with malice. "Draco has already been claimed by Pansy Parkinson."

"He can not be claimed," her father bit back. "Each one of those boys in there are eligible for _you, _so choose wisely."

"I believe we have a tea to attend," she replied icily, and strode past her fuming parents into the dining room.

* * *

**A/N:** Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? PRAISE? Yeah, I take it all. Review :)


	4. A Cliché With Complications

**Shades of Grey**  
4. A Cliché With Complications

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Not only am I not creative enough to come up with my own fictional universe, I'm also not creative enough to come up with a clever disclaimer in which to publicly announce that all this Harry Potter mumbo-jumbo belongs to JKR.  
...Oh, that'd do it, then. xD  
**Author's Note:** I know, I know. I'm taking too long to get these out; it's been weeks; WTF AMANDA?! I got it. Chill.

* * *

With a surprising twist of fate, the evening continued without incident. She sat sandwiched between Draco and Blaise. Draco kept casting sidelong glances at Rose, which she promptly ignored, and Blaise's hand just _happened_ to continually land on offensive places of her lap, which she didn't ignore quite so easily. By the third or fourth time, when Rose tried to snap his wrist, Blaise gave up. When tea was over, she shook hands with each of her "suitors," and showed them the door.

"I think that went well," Christopher muttered to himself, walking upstairs to his bedroom. Claire followed him.

"I don't think that went well at all," Rose grumbled, looking to Alex for support. He shrugged. "As my big brother, I would assume you'd have some sort of natural instinct to look out for me when a guy is—oh, what's the phrase—_making a move_ on me."

He looked at her for a few long seconds, and then began laughing. "Sure, _you_ need _my_ protection," he snorted, and walked away, chuckling. She scowled at his back.

For the next couple of days, Rose managed to avoid talking to her parents. She spent most of her time with Daphne. After breakfast the following day, she took the fireplace to Daphne's house where they spent a few hours of their time discussing marriage, playing Exploding Snaps, eating lunch, and discussing more marriage. It wasn't a particularly pleasant topic, but Daphne seemed determined to do most of the talking, so Rose didn't mind it that much. She was always content with letting Daphne talk, while she listened. Being the great friend that Daphne is, she always seemed to sense when something was troubling Rose, and took over the conversation completely, rambling about pointless topics.

"Rose?" she finally said when her best friend was taking a handful of floo powder, preparing to go home for dinner.

"Yeah?"

She changed her mind. "Do you want to come to Diagon Alley with me tomorrow? I've decided I'm going to buy new dress robes for Christmas."

"Sure." Rose half-smiled, and threw the powder down, shouting, "Fourteen Flagley Court!"

The next day, Rose floo'd to Daphne's just before lunch. They ate in her kitchen, and then took the fireplace to the Leaky Cauldron. Rose's spirits didn't seem much higher than they had the day before, but Daphne figured this shopping trip was just what the healer ordered. They walked straight to Madam Malkin's, two girls on a mission. Of course, to their dismay, whom should they find there, but the one person neither of them wanted to see?

"Well, who do we have here?" came the drawl of the aforementioned pain-in-the-arse.

"'Ello," Daphne muttered, looking through a clothing rack.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Rose sneered.

"Picking out dress robes, of course," she snorted, as if it should have been obvious.

"Why? Aren't your dress robes for Christmas _custom made_?"

Pansy sniffed. "Obviously. These are for lesser occasions."

Rose rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to the dress robes Daphne was examining. They walked around the store, looking at all of the different styles and colours the shop had to offer. Pansy's eyes watched them curiously most of the time, and she kept annoyingly close by. Halfway through the clothing hunt, Daphne suggested that Rose buy new robes as well. Rose protested that she had enough dress robes at home, and would just wear something old. Daphne scoffed, looked meaningfully over at Pansy and whispered,

"Don't you want to show up in something better than _her_?"

Rose thought about it seriously, and a mischievous smirk crossed her face. She nodded, and the hunt continued. They spent a good half-hour browsing through the racks. It was your typical shopping trip with two friends, what more do you want? Simple, cliché shopping. Daphne found the perfect dress robes, of course, and set to work squealing over finding her friend something gorgeous to wear; which, naturally, she did.

As they were heading to the changing rooms to put on their new robes, Rose suddenly spun around to face a very flustered looking Pansy Parkinson, who's cheeks flushed red at being caught eavesdropping.

"Look, I understand you're probably male under all the make-up and skirts, but can you _kindly_ refrain from following us into the changing rooms? I'd rather not have nightmarish images of your pug face staring at me naked every time I close my eyes at night. _Thank you_."

Pansy continued to blush, though her features rearranged themselves into a scowl as Rose walked into the changing room and pulled the curtain closed. Pansy walked away in a huff, peeved at being so insulted.

And that is how Rose Martell and Daphne Greengrass managed to blow off an entire day. Though Rose was thankful for this getaway, she now had to face the upcoming party, and her mood dropped again. All too soon, the night of the 24th arrived, and as Rose sat in the hot bubbles of her bath, she thought about how nice it would be to have a normal Christmas Eve at home. She grew so tired of these social gatherings that her parents always felt obligated to attend. _She_ didn't feel obligated to attend. Why couldn't _she_ stay home?

Rose sighed, drained the water, and stepped out. She ran the towel over her legs and arms, wrapped it tightly around her body, and headed out to her room.

Rose's mum came out of the master bedroom then, stopping when she saw Rose. "You're still not dressed?" she shrieked, fastening an earring to her right lobe.

"I'm going," Rose grumbled.

"Hurry up! We're leaving in 20 minutes, Roselyn. You do this every bloody time. I'm tired of this. Either you're—Where are you going?! I'm talking to you!"

"I thought you wanted me to go get dressed, mother," she replied through clenched teeth.

Claire gaped for a minute, then spluttered, "So, what are you standing around for, then?"

Rose stared, open-mouthed, after her. _What the fuck_?

Muttering silent profanities under her breath the entire time, Rose pulled on her dress robes: Long, flowing satin with emerald-green trimmings. Thanks to her lack of magic, she didn't have time to dry her hair, so she pulled it up into a loose bun of wet curls, and hoped it would dry nicely. She doubted it.

The Malfoy Manor looked the same as it always did this time of year: decorated with exaggerated extravagance. She smirked at the silver tinsel and strings of glass bulbs filled with glowing fairies hanging from the ceiling, framing the windows and paintings. The oversized Christmas tree in the corner decorated lavishly in silver, green, and blue did not amuse her. Rose, having passed out drunk in Malfoy Manor last Christmas—and very rudely left behind by her parents—knew all too well what the place looked like after the evening festivities. She had awoken sometime in the middle of the day with a throbbing headache and the need to puke her intestines into a bucket, not to mention the weird case of hangover-amnesia. She looked around the house and nothing looked out of the ordinary. There were no decorations, no people, no sign of a party or a holiday at all. At the time, it had frightened her to the deepest pits of her gut, turning it cold. It was bad enough to wake up, half naked, in the Malfoy's guest room, but it was another thing entirely not to remember how or why she was there.

Point is, Rose knew all too well that the decorations now set up around the main floor of the Manor were all for show and would be taken down first thing the following morning.

She remembered, quite vaguely, something about being told not to drink too much at this party as she made her way over to the bar. She scanned the bottles, trying to decide where to start. She was just reaching for a rather appealing bottle of rum when a hand caught her wrist.

"Rosie, you promised," Daphne whispered in her ear.

"I know," she muttered, wrenching herself free of Daphne's grip. She quickly changed course to the left and grabbed a bottle of butterbeer. "Happy?"

"Rosie," Daphne growled.

"It's butterbeer, Daph, I swear."

"Good. Keep it that way," she nodded, still eyeing her friend suspiciously. Rose saw Theodore Nott standing just behind Daphne, watching the exchange with curiosity. Daphne grabbed two butterbeers, handed one to Nott, and walked away with a quick, "See you later, Rosie."

The second Daphne was out of sight, having pushed through a crowd of people to the opposite side of the room, Rose grabbed the rum bottle she had been eyeing, and poured herself a _real_ drink. She took a small sip, and, realizing just how thirsty she really had been, downed the entire glass in one gulp. She let a small chuckle escape her lips before pouring herself another glass, and walking away from the table of alcohol.

"Hey, Rose!" called an all-too-familiar voice from somewhere she couldn't see. She looked around to see Blaise Zabini coming toward her from behind a group of adults. She grimaced as he stood next to her.

"Hello," she replied sourly, sipping her drink.

"What've you got there?" he asked conversationally, pointing at her glass.

She scowled. "What do you want, Zabini?"

"Whoa, easy on the hostility. What have _I_ done?" he said, throwing his hands up in a defensive position.

She took a deep breath. "Nothing. Sorry, Blaise, I'm just not in the mood to be here tonight."

"I can see that," he chuckled, nodding toward her drink. "If you want," he muttered, suddenly putting his hands against the wall on either side of her, and leaning in next to her ear, "I can get you in the mood."

She pushed him away, and he stepped back, a large grin spread wide on his face. He shrugged casually and leaned back against the wall beside her as though nothing happened. She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink some more. Rose watched the crowd of people in a neutrally observatory fashion. It wasn't much fun. Everyone stood around talking and drinking, low music playing lightly in the background. She saw a group of Slytherins from school laughing boisterously in a big group. The adults regarded them with disdain. Daphne was sitting with Draco, Pansy, and Theodore a few feet away from the group. Daphne didn't seem too comfortable, but Rose figured her friend could tough it out on her own until she finished her drink, because she didn't plan to have it taken away from her. As she watched, Daphne's eyes flickered upward, and Rose quickly hid her glass behind her back. Daphne seemed unaware, pointing her head discreetly toward Blaise and winking at her.

She turned away before Rose had a chance to protest. As she continued to watch her friends, Draco stood from his chair and announced, quite loudly, that he needed to pee. He then proceeded to walk from the room. Rose steeled herself, looked toward the group Draco had abandoned, and when no one was looking, she tore off after him.

Only one thought ran through her mind as she followed his disappearing figure up the stairs: _I have to know._

"Draco?" she called, opening every door as she went. "Are you up here?"

It didn't occur to her that opening doors looking for him when he said he was going to pee probably wasn't a wise idea until she found him. Luckily, he was still fully clothed. She hesitated for a few seconds, then decided she should let him piss _first_, and left. She planned to wait outside the door for him, but didn't have to wait longer than a couple of seconds before he came out.

"Rose?" he said awkwardly, raising an eyebrow.

"I need to talk to you," she said hurriedly. "Are you going to pee?"

He looked over his shoulder, as though momentarily confused, then shook his head. Rose grabbed his hand and led him to the room next door. Draco tripped over the carpet as they entered. She waited for him to close the door behind her, and worked out how to best phrase her question.

Suddenly Draco's head shot straight up, as though seeing Rose for the first time. "Got an idea!" he announced loudly.

"You do?"

"Yeah! It's great! Listen here!" he shouted giddily.

"You don't have to yell, I'm right here," she said irritably.

He began nodded vigorously as he walked toward her. "You," he said, stretching the word out awkwardly, "Should chose _me_," he jabbed a finger at his chest, "to marry _you_," he pointed at her in conclusion, stumbling slightly as he lost balance.

"Draco…are you drunk? Or am _I_ drunk?" She looked down at the nearly-full glass of rum in her hand, frowning slightly. "Ugh, no, you're drunk."

"Pfft, I had, like, _one_ drink," he scoffed. "So, marry me?"

"Yeah, okay," she said sarcastically. "If I ever have a death wish, sure."

"Come on, baby," he cooed in attempted seduction, failing spectacularly because he stumbled again.

He tried to throw his arms over Rose's neck, but she sidestepped, and he fell onto the chair she had been leaning against. He stayed there. Rose turned around, looking at him with revulsion. She'd never seen Draco drunk before…or perhaps she had but didn't notice because she was just as drunk herself. Either or. The sudden fall to the chair seemed to have sobered Draco up a little, or at least calmed him down enough to get control over himself, because his face suddenly became serious.

"Funny, this, innit?" His voice had a mocking edge to it.

Rose knew precisely what he was talking about, but still said, "Why is that?"

"The tables just seem a little turned, don't they? What with me being the—" He hiccupped. "—drunk one, and you not, in this here bedroom." He flailed his arm around in a circular movement to motion to the rest of the room.

"You've got one fucked up sense of humour," she spat. He began laughing, loud and cruel.

"Don't kid yourself, Rose," he answered, his words slurring. "It was the best night of your life."

"You took advantage of me, you sick son of a bitch!" she yelled. He laughed again.

"You didn't say no," he reminded her.

"Just because it wasn't rape, doesn't mean it wasn't wrong," she hissed.

"You loved it," he teased in a gruff sing-song voice.

Rose was going to retaliate, but she couldn't think of one clever thing to say, so she settled for grinding her teeth. "I can't talk to you like this. I'll see you when you're sober. Go to bed, Draco."

"Only if you come with me," he replied. She turned away in disgust, and walked from the room. "So, does that mean you're going to marry me?" he called after her. She left without a reply.

Back downstairs, she located Pansy still sitting with Daphne and Theodore, Blaise having joined them. She walked straight up to her, not looking at either of her other friends.

"If I were you," she said, and Pansy looked up in surprise, "I'd keep your boyfriend on a tighter leash."

Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, draining her drink in one large gulp. She poured herself another, and drank it just as quickly, finishing off with several milligrams of Firewhiskey.

**. . .**

Everything looked normal enough, though she couldn't help but feel like something was very wrong. She turned in circles, trying to pinpoint exactly what was amiss. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was just simply her garden. She stood in the middle of the grass, her back to the house, staring at the white wooden fence that encased the perimeter of her property. She turned in a full circle once more, and when she faced the fence again, her parents were standing in front of her, their arms linked.

"Mum? Dad?" she called to them, worried. What was going on? She couldn't what they were thinking tell from their expressions. There was something on their faces she wasn't sure she'd seen before.

"Come here to us, baby," her mother cooed. Rose's eyebrow shot up. '_Baby_?' she thought. _What is she trying to pull, talking to me like that?_

Rose walked toward her parents cautiously, casting nervous glances over her shoulder. As she got closer, she realized it wasn't her parents at all. She had mistaken Draco Malfoy's blond hair for her father's. What was Draco doing with his mother? As she wondered this, she looked over to find that her mother wasn't with Draco, it was her. Her eyes bulged. The smile on her face—or whoever this person that looked like her was—became a grimace, while Draco's smirk turned into a sneer. There suddenly were flashes of light that blinded her, and she fell to the ground. The grass was hot beneath her fingers, though it seemed to be night time. She heard a high voice speak to her, but it sounded distant. It was then followed by more flashes of light. She felt her lips forming the word 'no,' but she couldn't manage to scream it.

"No!" she wanted to say. "No! I don't want this! NO!"

Her throat refused to make sound appear. Her entire body tensed, preparing for pain, but it never came.

Rose woke up with a cold sweat running down her forehead, anxiety rising in her chest, and her lips still formed in a circular 'o' from the words she couldn't make herself produce in the dream. She tried to take deep breaths to calm the raging panic that made her want to scream and run away and never come back.

* * *

**A/N:** Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Review :]


	5. Signatures

**Shades of Grey**  
5. Signatures

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Blah, blah, blah, J.K Rowling.  
**Author's Note:** I think I'm way past apologies at this point. It's been months. Just enjoy.

* * *

Rose sat up in bed groggily as she heard her door open. Alex walked in with a cup of pumpkin juice in his hand. He handed it to her, and she took it willingly. As she drank, it washed down the decaying taste of the alcohol-induced morning breath she knew she was currently too tired to discard of properly. She set the cup down and looked up at Alex who stood patiently across the room.

"What happened to me?" she groaned.

"You got drunk…again," he said with a smile. "I had quite a job of convincing mum and dad not to leave you there."

Rose grimaced. "Thanks."

"At least they're pleased with you," he shrugged. "Maybe they won't yell at you for drinking your weight in alcohol."

"They're…pleased…with me?" Rose asked warily, the concept strange and unfamiliar. "Why?"

"Because of Draco!" he said as though it should have been obvious, and left the room with a chuckle.

She stared after him in open-mouthed horror. What?

**. . .**

Christopher Martell was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the _Daily Prophet_ when his daughter entered the room in a rage.

"Good morning, Roselyn," he said calmly, not looking up from his article. "Sleep well, I presume?"

"No."

"That's a shame." He didn't sound like it was a shame at all. He looked up from his paper with a grin, which dropped immediately. "You're not dressed."

"Not yet. Father—"

"What are you waiting for? We're leaving soon."

"To go where?" she asked, her plan of protestation momentarily gone.

"Out to lunch with the Malfoys. We have contracts to sign."

"For what?"

"Roselyn, now is not the time for games," he said, as thought chastising a small child. "Now go put on some clothes."

**. . .**

A short while later, Rose, Claire, and Christopher were at a fancy restaurant to which Rose had never been. Alex had very conveniently found a reason to excuse himself from the lunch. Rose wasn't particularly pleased.

The restaurant was open and bright, adorned in brilliant white and blue Christmas decorations. Narcissa and Draco stood waiting for them. Chris led them forward, greeting the Malfoys politely. They got the pleasantries out of the way immediately and followed a house elf to their table.

No one said a word regarding the reason they were there—Rose's supposed marriage to Draco—during the entire meal. They discussed the weather, the Ministry, Quidditch, everything except the marriage. Rose began growing impatient when the tables were cleared and coffee was ordered. Apparently, she wasn't the only one.

"I think we've stalled enough. Can we just get this over with?" Narcissa said in a clipped tone.

"Alright," Christopher agreed, pulling out a roll of several pieces of parchment, and smoothing them out on the table. He took a quill out of Claire's purse and his eyes shot between Rose and Draco. "I'm sure you both know the terms well enough by now. All I need are your signatures."

He held the quill out, waiting for one of them to take it.

"Er, Draco can I speak to you for a minute?" Rose said hastily, leaving the table before anyone could answer.

She waited outside, pacing in front of the door. Draco came out a minute later and stood in her path. She took a deep breath to prevent yelling at him.

"What did you_ do_?"

"Last night…I may have accidentally told both of our parents that you chose me."

Rose stared at him, horrified. "Why aren't you saying anything to them?!"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"That you lied!" she shrieked.

"I didn't lie!" he protested. "I was just a bit delusional."

"Whatever! The point is, you told them I chose you, and I didn't."

"I know!"

"So why don't you say something?"

Draco bit his lip for a second before answering. "I'm just…thinking."

"About how to stop this, I hope!"

"Not exactly…" He lowered his head and looked up at her through his lashes, like a small child confessing that it was he who broke the vase in the living room, not the dog, as he had originally said. "What if we signed?"

Rose's eyes widened as she immediately realized what he meant. "NO! No, no, no!"

"Why not? Think about it!" He grabbed the tops of Rose's arms, making sure she listened. "Who else would you chose? _Blaise_? You can't stand him."

"I can't stand you very much right now, either," she said, wrenching herself from his grip.

"I'm serious!" he growled, gripping her arms again. "Eventually, we're going to have to end up with someone. And we don't hate each other, or repulse each other. We're practically a match made in Heaven."

"You have a very twisted view of romance," she muttered angrily.

"Is that a yes?"

"What about Pansy?" she asked.

Draco let go, and took a step back. "I'd rather marry Potter than spend the rest of my life with her. Not sure if you noticed, but she's kind of a pain in the arse. Nice shag, but looks like a dog."

Rose laughed.

"You're a better shag, anyway," he added.

She slapped the back of his head, and stalked off toward their table. Everyone sat in patient silence, looking up at them as they approached. Rose watched as Draco grabbed the quill with confidence and scratched his practiced signature at the bottom of the parchment. He handed the quill over to Rose with a wink before taking his seat across the table. Her hand shook as she dipped it in the ink well.

She stared at the parchment, willing her name to appear there of its own accord, so she wouldn't have to do the condemning deed herself. She told herself that it wouldn't be so bad. She could handle being married to Draco. They were _almost_ friends, after all. And, he was right, she didn't have very nice alternatives. Taking a deep breath, she slowly signed her name in a swishy hand below Draco's.

**. . .**

She thought she would feel different, but she didn't. She still felt like the exact same Roselyn Martell, except now, she saw more of Draco than before. He spent a good deal of the remaining Christmas holiday with her. There seemed to always be things to finalize, and sign, and plan, and replan, and resign, and refinalize—once something is finalized, shouldn't it be _done?_ Evidently not.

Rose more than grateful to sit on the train for the journey back to Hogwarts, even if she was sitting in a compartment with Draco. Not that she didn't normally share a compartment with him, just that it was much more uncomfortable now. She was pretty much sick of him at this point. But, believe or not, that wasn't what made her the most uncomfortable. It wasn't sitting sandwiched between Draco and the window. It wasn't having only half the people in the compartment know about the engagement—if you can call it that—and half not. It wasn't even that she knew she would have to tell them all eventually. It was that Pansy Parkinson stepped in through the doors just before the train pulled out of the station.

"Sorry that took so long," she sighed, closing the door behind her. "It's mad out there. Everyone running around like they have no clue what they're doing. And bloody cold, too. Five more minutes out there and I would have frozen into an ice lolly. Move over, baby. And Merlin help me I wanted to crush the skulls of some of those first years."

She continued to prattle on about her oh-so-horrendous experience of getting on the train as she sat on the other side of Draco. She didn't seem to notice that not a single person was listening to her. Daphne shot a panicked look at Rose, motioning with her eyes from Draco, to Pansy, and back to her. Rose shook her head very discreetly and looked away. The glass on the window was fogged by the cold air outside, so she could hardly see anything as the train thundered down the tracks.

"…and they didn't even bother bringing presents. I mean, honestly, who goes to someone else's house for Christmas, and doesn't even bring presents? They brought mum and dad a bottle of wine, but who really cares about that, right? _I_ got nothing. And then I had to take care of their disgusting kid. Ugh, it was gross. Draco, baby, when we get married, we are _so_ not having children. Not ever. They are much more work than they're worth. You don't mind, right, baby?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Parkinson! Shut the fuck up!" Rose yelled, finally losing patience with her insipid rambling after almost ten minutes of it.

"Do you have a problem, Martell?" she snapped.

"Clearly."

"Rose, stop it. We talked about this," Draco said in a warning tone.

"Oh, fuck you. Don't _you_ even talk to me. I am so sick and tired of you telling me what to do. 'Roselyn, don't argue with Pansy.' 'Roselyn, don't talk back to my mother.' 'Roselyn, fetch me some tea.' 'Roselyn, wrap my Christmas present in silver paper.' 'Roselyn, wear something more revealing.' Just _shut up_."

"What was that last one?" Pansy asked.

"This is not going to work," Rose huffed, standing up. "Just not going to work."

"Where do you think you're going?" Draco stood up to block her way out of the compartment.

"I'm going to find somewhere else to sit. I can't honestly stand the sight of you anymore."

"Don't do anything rash, Rose," he growled, grabbing her arm.

"Stop. Telling. Me. What. To. Do," she replied through gritted teeth, prying herself out of his grip.

"Excuse us," Draco said, and dragged Rose out of the compartment.

Once safely in the train's corridor, and away from the others, he looked straight at her. His eyes were fierce. Anger turned his blue-grey eyes into hard steel. He clenched his fists at his side, and spoke through his teeth as though trying his very hardest not to explode.

"Here's how this is going to work," he began. "We're going to be married soon. And, as my wife-to-be, you _will_ obey me as you should. Is that clear?"

"Oh, please," Rose scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You don't scare me. You can't just order me around. I'm going to be your wife, not your slave."

"Is there a difference?" he smirked.

"How dare you!" she half-shrieked. Rose lifted her hand to slap Draco across the face, but he caught her by the wrist, slapped her with his other hand instead, pinned her against the wall, and bent his face down right beside her ear.

"Do not test me, Roselyn Martell. Or I swear to Merlin, I will make this so much worse for you than it already is. Now go back in there and be a good little girl. We have to tell our other friends the good news."

He kissed her cheek as he pulled back, and opened the compartment door, motioning for her to go in first. Her face still holding the shock of being hit, she stepped inside and sat down in her seat.

* * *

**A/N:** Please leave your opinions and complaints in the review. I'm sure you have some after _that_ fiasco. Thank you.

Happy Columbus Day to all of mis Americanos. And Happy Thanksgiving to you silly Canadians. :]  
[Both of which, I am fully aware, are tomorrow.]


	6. Homework

**Shades of Grey**  
6. Homework

* * *

**Disclaimer**: J.K Rowling would not approve.

* * *

"Don't make me laugh!" Pansy Parkinson scoffed, though she was already in a fit of hysterics.

"We're not joking, Parkinson," Rose sighed with annoyance.

"Yeah, sure thing, Martell," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, her chapped lips still pulled back in an ugly grin.

"Fine, don't believe it. Don't expect me to give a shit about your feelings. But whether you accept it or not, Draco and I are getting married. So I'd start getting used to the idea of living alone as a miserable old bat for the rest of my life if I were you."

Pansy's face froze in a grin that no longer met her eyes as she turned to Draco. "Baby?" she squeaked, voice pitching several octaves. Draco nodded. "WHAT."

**. . .**

Rose figured that it all went exactly as planned. No one expected Pansy to take the news well. No one expected a quiet affair. Of course, she could have done without the black eye, but Rose was willing to bet it could have gone a lot worse if Blaise hadn't shoved Parkinson out of the compartment. Though she felt quite disappointed she didn't get a chance to throw her own punch or two. Or hex or three.

"Alright, let me see," Daphne sighed. Rose removed a pack of ice from her face. It felt numb there. "It looks horrible. If you'd just let me mend it—"

"No! I've seen your healing spells. I'll take the black eye, thanks."

"If you weren't such a bloody idiot, this wouldn't have happened," Draco muttered.

"What did I do?" Rose said reproachfully.

"You're always pushing her. I told you. I _warned_ you, didn't I?"

"You're a right nasty piece of work, Draco. You really are."

"I could say the same to you."

"Go to hell."

"You first."

"We'll see."

"Are you two done?" Daphne interceded. "Draco, make yourself useful and go get some more ice. This is melting."

"I'm not a house elf. Get it yourself."

"Draco!" He didn't move. "Is it just me or is he more of an asshole than usual?"

Rose said nothing, though she knew Daphne was right. Draco seemed to suddenly be more hostile than ever before. Especially towards her. She knew this marriage thing was a bad idea. She shouldn't have done it. If he continues on this way—

"Rose! Are you listening to me?" Daphne waved her hand in front of her face.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, I'm going to get more ice." She enunciated this slowly, as though the punch in the face had caused serious brain damage. Rose shot her a look telling her she wasn't stupid, and Daphne left the room with a chuckle.

"You're going to be a shit husband," Rose said offhandedly, carefully poking her eye to test how much it hurt.

"How do you figure that?" he asked, seemingly not bothered by this proclamation.

"Because you're a shit boyfriend," she replied.

"I'm not your boyfriend."

"Whatever the hell I'm supposed to call you. You're still shit at it."

"Thanks."

"Your sarcasm is highly appreciated."

"Ditto."

Rose looked at him for a few seconds, then returned to poking her face. "Ouch," she hissed when she pressed too hard.

"Then don't fucking touch it! Bloody hell, you really are an idiot."

She glared at him, unable to think up a quick enough response. He smirked. "_You're_ an idiot," she sputtered.

He laughed. "Very clever, Martell. Very clever."

"You know," she began. He raised his eyebrows in amusement. She ignored him. "You're not helping, so just go away."

He laughed again. "You're completely hopeless." He pulled his wand from his pocket, and kneeled in front of her. "Must I do everything? Hold still. _Episkey_."

She flinched, expecting disastrous results reminiscent of Daphne's attempted healing spells, but when none came, she looked at Draco perplexedly. She touched her face. It didn't hurt. Raising her eyebrow, she jumped up and rummaged through Daphne's bag until she came up with a mirror. She heard Draco sigh as she examined the now-healed skin on her cheekbone. She turned to Draco, her eyebrows pulling together.

"You can perform healing spells?"

He laughed once more, but this time it was humourless. "Trust me, living in my house, it's pretty much a necessity."

"What do you mean?"

"Parents. Death Eaters. Remember?"

"Oh," she grimaced. "Right."

He laughed again. It was mockingly cruel this time. She was beginning to think he had a different laugh for every mood. She did not appreciate this. Nor did it amuse her.

"Scary, isn't it? Does it frighten you? The danger?" He walked toward her, and she backed away. "I'm serious here, Rose. It's very dangerous. You never know when a Death Eater might just _snap_ and do something crazy."

She wanted to tell him that she knew this perfectly well as her own parents were Death Eaters as well, but she couldn't find the words. The back of her leg hit the couch. She didn't dare glance over her shoulder, because he was close enough to wrap his hands around her throat now, which he did. He did it slowly, each finger touching her skin individually, ensuring he got a good grip. Her breath caught. He wasn't squeezing tight, but it was enough to make her stop breathing of her own accord.

"What are you—," she tried to choke out, but he put two fingers of his other hand to her lips. His eyes bore into hers, flashing with nothing short of sadistic excitement.

"You know those Death Eater types. They're an unstable lot at the best of times. Wouldn't want to cross one. Awful things happen when you do. I would know." His grip tightened, his face lowered, jaw tight.

Sparks appeared in front of Rose's eyes, her vision blurring. He continued to tighten his grip, loosen it slightly, then tighten again. Keeping her conscious, but just barely. She kept her neck muscles tensed, and breathed in through her nose, but even that was getting harder and harder to maintain. _He's gone completely mental_, she thought. He leaned his face down to hers, and, through her spotty vision, she saw amusement in his eyes.

"And they also make shit husbands," he smirked, and let go. This time the laugh that escaped his lips was more of a roaring bark. He was _enjoying himself._

"The fuck, Draco?" Rose yelped, rubbing her throat.

"Oh, come _on_," he chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Lighten up. I was joking. Merlin…"

"That is _not_ funny."

"Oh, you'll be a joy to be around. I can't wait," he muttered sarcastically. "Right, well, it's the middle of the night, and term starts tomorrow, so I'll see you then."

He turned to go, then backtracked. "Good night, love," he added with a wink, kissing her cheek. She saw him chuckling the whole way into the dormitory passageway.

She really hoped this didn't become a habit.

Another ten minutes passed by, and then, "I got the ice! And some cauldron cakes courtesy of the kitchen house elves. I swear, they don't sleep. It's got to be two in the morning, but they're as chipper as ever. Oh, I wish I got something to drink. Wonder if there's any…" She trailed off. "Er, are you alright?"

Rose quickly relayed the story of what had just occurred between her and Draco. Daphne listened the whole way through without interruption, but when Rose had finished, she began laughing. Was Rose the _only_ one not finding anything about this funny?

"Draco's just a prick. You've got to ignore him, really. He's losing it lately. Gone completely nuts. Don't take him too seriously, though. He's a lot of things—I mean a _lot_ of things—but he's not abusive or something. Play along. Fight back. I'm sure he'll love it. He's kinky like that." She shrugged. Rose gaped.

"That was bloody disturbing."

She laughed again. "That's just what I think. Oh, hey, wait! Who mended your eye?" she exclaimed.

Now it was Rose's turn to laugh. "Caught up, have you? Come on, let's get to bed. I think you're exhausted."

They headed for the dormitory, eating their cauldron cakes on the way, and trying not to wake their dorm mates. Mostly just trying not to wake Pansy. No need to piss her off even more. _Oh, tomorrow will be fun_, Rose thought sarcastically before falling asleep.

**. . .**

Incidentally, the next day _was_ fun. When Rose emerged into the Common Room that morning, several people were huddled around the notice board. She peered over their shoulders to read the new sign that had been pinned there.

**APPARITION LESSONS**

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on

or before the 31st of August next, you are eligible for a

twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry

of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if

you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons.

Rose, almost too eagerly, pulled a quill from her bag to sign her name. Draco reach over her shoulder to sign before her, and smirked as he pulled back. Rose quickly scribbled her name to the parchment and turned on Draco…who was already gone. _Bloody git._

"Apparition! Isn't that so exciting? I can't wait to get started. I've been waiting _forever_ to learn. My dad took me on Side-Along once, and it was absolutely terrible. He told me it's better when you go alone, but I'll believe _that_ when I see it. Be amazing though, wouldn't it, to Apparate? Go anywhere, anytime."

"Except when we're in school," Rose pointed out.

"Well, obviously. But besides that!"

"You're not even seventeen yet. You have to take twelve weeks of lessons before you're even _eligible _for your license."

"You're just a right ball of sunshine this morning, aren't you?" Daphne said in a clipped tone.

"Sorry," Rose replied, not sorry at all.

"Are you still upset over Draco?"

"What?" Rose asked distractedly. "No, of course not."

Though, of course, she was. She was already regretting her decision to marry him. After over five years, you'd think she'd know enough about him to know that he wouldn't make a good husband at all. But she didn't. She realized she didn't know much about him at all. Draco was a very elusive person. Or, at least, that's what she told herself to avoid the humiliation. Humiliation of a) being too thick to know anything about one of her friends, b) choosing Draco in the first pla—did she just call Draco her _friend_?

**. . . .**

And c) calling Draco her friend.

"…not to mention he's not very attractive to begin with, anyway. You know what I mean, Rose?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," she nodded absently.

"Exactly. So you definitely got lucky. Hell, if you gave him to me, I'd take Draco. Better than whoever I'm going to be stuck with."

"Uh-huh." Rose really couldn't care less.

Daphne continued to monologue all the way to the greenhouses. Rose couldn't be bothered to properly take part in the conversation, so she listened, and consented agreement at all the right moments. Daphne eventually caught on that Rose wasn't listening, and was suddenly very interested in her Herbology text as they sat down to class. Draco planted himself on the other side of Rose, and she sighed audibly.

"You know, as my wife-to-be, you should probably enjoy my company a lot more than you do currently."

"Piss off, Malfoy," she snapped.

He threw eye-daggers at her, but she didn't retreat. She looked back defiantly, as if daring him to try anything in the middle of class. When he clenched his jaw, but did nothing, Rose smirked in satisfaction and turned to Professor Sprout, who was introducing their lesson.

**. . .**

That night, everyone sat in the Common Room pouring over the homework of the first day back.

"Daphne, can I see your Arithmancy book?" Rose asked.

Daphne stared at Rose like she had just sprouted extra body parts. "What?"

"Yes, yes, I'm doing homework. Is it a _crime_ now?"

"No, but, why?" she asked, handing her the textbook.

"I'm bored out of my skull, that's why. It's all you lot ever do anymore."

"That's a flat lie," Draco scoffed. "We spend a half hour on this crap each day."

"Much too long for me." She opened her book, and set to work.

Rose discovered two things: First, Arithmancy is not as hard as she thought it was if you put a little effort into it. And, second, homework was a lot more fun than sitting around doing nothing.

"Rose?" Daphne asked a while later. "We're done now; you don't have to keep going."

"I'm almost finished," she murmured, biting her lip in concentration.

She heard the conversation flow easily around her, but ignored it. This was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing, and she'd be damned if she didn't finish all her work now.

"Er, Rose? It's been, like, two hours. Are you alright?"

She looked up from her parchment. "What? Oh, I'm great!"

"Okay…," Daphne said hesitantly. "Well, it's nearly one o'clock, so we're going to head off to bed."

"Right, sure, I just need to look over this essay," she assured her. "Be there soon."

Rose nodded, and waved absently to consent her farewell. She heard soft murmurings of goodbye, and was, she expected, left alone. She could still here a few other people talking off to her right. She looked up at a group of three friends talking and laughing amongst themselves. Sixth years. She also saw Draco still sitting on the couch in front of her. Rose ignored this and returned to her essay, which she was quite proud to admit she wrote. She was just finishing up her revisions on the last paragraph several minutes later when Draco spoke up.

"I've been thinking," Draco mused as he watched the last of the students head into their dormitories. It was much too late to be awake on a school night by now. She looked outside the windows, but the Lake was exactly as its name suggested: black.

"That's a first," she murmured in reply.

He scowled before continuing. "I've been thinking," he repeated with more emphasis, "that if we're going to be married, you're going to have to open up to me sexually."

Rose nearly choked on imaginary dust. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

He looked at her with a smirk plastered on his face, casually leaning back on the sofa as if examining the shock he put her in to. She quickly recovered, arranging her facial expression into something she was sure he didn't expect. Maybe he was the one that needed a little shock.

"You're right," she nodded. "I can't keep this up for much longer."

His eyes widened for just a second before he grinned satisfactorily. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she nodded again.

She got up and strode over to stand in front of him. She swung each leg on either side of him. He stared. She pressed herself against him, and slid down his body so she now straddled his hips. Draco's smirk was enough to make her want to punch him, so she avoided looking at it. Rose lowered her mouth to his neck to let him feel her hot breath on his skin. She could feel him beginning to press against her thigh as she slowly trailed her hands down his chest. Lower…lower…lower…lower…

She stood up.

He sat gaping at her. She laughed loudly. "In your dreams, Malfoy," she sneered. He still sat staring with his mouth open in shock. She laughed again.

Then, unexpectedly, he grabbed her and forcefully pulled her down to him, quickly flipping her to lay on her back in the black leather sofa beneath him. He took her hands and placed them above her head. He didn't do anything to them; just left them there. But the back of the couch prevented her from moving her left arm, and her right dangled uselessly above her.

"What are you doing?" she choked out.

"Don't start with me if you don't plan to finish," he growled.

"Draco, come on, let me up," she protested, but he didn't move off of her.

His hands quickly moved to undo the buttons of her blouse, and, before she knew it, he was staring at her bare chest with only a plain white bra covering her last shred of decency. To be honest, she didn't think she was anything special to behold, but Draco seemed to like it well enough. His lips went to her throat as his hands roamed her sides and stomach. She drew in a shaky breath, and felt his answering smirk. She bit her tongue. Well it's not like she was dead and unfeeling! Even if she didn't want it, her hormones would still react to the sexual stimuli. It was a natural reaction. Right? Right.

"Stop being a prick, Draco," she near-moaned.

"You don't seem to mind too much," he murmured against her skin as he trailed down to her collarbone.

"It's an involuntary response," she whispered, not trusting her voice enough to speak up.

"I'm sure that if you really didn't want this, you wouldn't be turned on. But, okay, I'll bite. Just tell me no." He raised his head to look at her face.

"No."

A chuckle. "That was frightfully unconvincing. Try again."

"No," she tried more forcefully. She heard her own voice crack, but Draco felt this was enough of a command, and sighed.

"This is not going to end well for you," he muttered in a deep growl.

"What are you going to do? Rape me?"

He laughed shortly. "That is so beneath me. Don't you think I'm better than that? And besides, I don't need to rape a girl to make her scream."

Rose was about to make a comeback, when his lips lowered to her.

"I just need to show her," he whispered; hot breath rushed against her ear, "the greatest pleasure," he continued, lips brushing her skin, "of her life." His teeth grabbed her earlobe, and he pulled and sucked on it as he withdrew, sending a shiver through her.

He looked at her again, this time scrutinizing her reaction, but she put on a blank, defiant face. He sighed again, and stood up from her. She could see his erection pushing against his trousers as he stood above her, smirking. When she said nothing, he nodded in satisfaction, and walked back to his dormitory.

Rose lay shivering in the cold, her shirt front still open. She pulled it tight around her, buttoning it back up. She wasn't sure what to make of any of that, but she really wanted to kill herself for the next thought that rose to her mind. _That was bloody amazing_. Presently, the accomplishment she had felt earlier for completing her homework did not work to satisfy her. Not the way she needed to be satisfied, anyway.

And what did he mean by, "This is not going to end well for you"?

* * *

Author's Note: And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is that.


	7. Labyrinth

**Shades of Grey**  
Chapter 7: Labyrinth

* * *

**Disclaimer: **JKR writes more often that I do.  
**Author's note:** This is a good one.

* * *

She watched Draco's face hover above hers, his blond hair falling over his eyes. She wanted to reach up and move it aside, but the back of the couch still prevented much movement. He chuckled, and she felt his hot breath tickle her face. As he continued to lower himself closer to her, she felt the soft fabric of his shirt against her bare stomach, and wished she could feel his skin there. Another chuckle. She looked into his grey-blue eyes, flashing with something like mischief.

"Bet you regret saying no to me now, don't you?" he whispered.

Rose's eyebrow shifted upward, the question confusing her. Draco's eyes turned hard, and she felt a searing heat erupt on her skin.

She woke up screaming.

**. . .**

The days continued on one after the other, just as they always had, but they seemed suddenly sluggish. They were slow the way time often is when one is waiting for something. Though she wasn't sure what she was waiting for, exactly. Whatever it was, she hoped it came soon.

"Miss Martell?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Answer the question."

She looked around at her classmates for some help on the question she hadn't heard. No one helped.

"Can you repeat the question, Professor?"

McGonagall sighed. "Pay attention, please." She turned away. "Mr. Longbottom…"

Rose shrugged and turned to Daphne. "She hates me, doesn't she?"

"Doesn't she hate everyone?" she replied with a grin.

"Good point," Rose nodded.

"Miss Martell, am I interrupting? Would you like to take your conversation outside?"

She ground her teeth against a remark, and was very close to voicing it, when McGonagall looked at the clock, and dismissed the class. Rose gathered her books up brusquely. She stormed out of the room before she said something that would get her into loads of trouble, and waited for Daphne outside the door. Students flooded out past her until Daphne finally emerged nearly last.

"One of these days…," Rose muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll rid the world of Gryffindors and rule as an almighty power over Slytherins of all ages. Got it."

Rose glared.

"What's this I hear about ruling the world?" Draco said, walking up beside Rose. Crabbe and Goyle were two loyal steps behind him. Draco draped his arm over Rose's shoulder, which she shrugged off. He didn't seem to notice.

"Rose plans to eradicate the world of Gryffindors one day, and reign as supreme ruler of the wizarding world."

"Not to mention," Rose added, "I'd put the muggles to work as miners, digging my underground fortress beneath England, in which mudbloods everywhere would be my servants."

"You're not killing them? Well that's quite generous of you," Draco acknowledged.

Rose nodded. "That's what I thought, too. I'm just a generous person."

Everyone consented their agreement before bursting into laughter. As they headed toward the Great Hall, Rose glanced over at Draco to see the all-too-familiar blank stare on his face. Her brow creased. She saw that it was happening again; he was starting to fall back into his usual routine. Pretty soon he'd start ignoring his friends, sneaking off in the middle of the night, skipping class, and not sleeping. That is, if it wasn't already happening and she had a sneaking suspicion that the late-night escapades began as soon as they arrived back to school—though she may have been personally responsible for keeping him in his dorm on the first night. Rose smiled inwardly to herself, and quickly did a mental face-slap. There were more important matters at hand than her overactive hormones. Draco was up to something, and this time she really needed to know what was going on. So, she decided she would find out.

**. . .**

"Where are you going?" Daphne asked as Rose stood up and started walking out of the Common Room.

"Astronomy," she announced.

"That's not for another hour," Daphne said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, right. I know. I have to use the toilet first." She rushed out before anyone caught on to that lie.

As plans go, this was a pretty stupid one. She wandered the halls aimlessly for a half hour before she realized the she might have wanted to have an inkling of an idea as to where Draco was before she tore off to search the whole bloody castle for him. By the time she reached the fourth floor, she began to simply skim the corridors, too lazy to properly look anymore. There was no chance she would ever find him at the rate she was going, but she had another 30 minutes before she needed to be in Astronomy, so she continued on her half-hearted search. Rose was on the seventh floor, with five minutes left until class, when she saw Crabbe and Goyle in the corridor. If she'd learned anything in her almost six years at Hogwarts, it's that Crabbe and Goyle never go anywhere without Draco, unless they're there on Draco's orders, in which case they'd know where he was anyway. Pleased by this sudden development, she picked up a light jog down the hallway. Crabbe and Goyle looked at her approaching and crushed themselves against the wall, probably hoping she would run right past them. When she stopped directly in front of them, they exchanged worried looks. Rose grew suspicious.

"Do you guys know where Draco is?" she asked.

"Uhhhh, nope," Crabbe answered after hesitation. She looked to Goyle, who began fidgeting.

"Don't know nothing about nothing," he muttered nervously under his breath.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "You have five seconds, or I hex it out of you."

"No, don't do that—"

"Five…"

"Rose, we can't," Crabbe whined.

"Four…"

"We ain't supposed to!"

"Three…"

"Rose, please," Goyle pleaded.

"Two…" She took her wand from her robe pocket.

"Aw, come on!" Crabbe groaned.

"One…" She raised her wand.

"Okay, okay!" Goyle said as quickly as he could, holding his hands up. "He's in there."

He pointed over his shoulder to a blank wall. She stared at him. Both of their faces were screwed up in apparent pain. Probably imagining what would become of them when Draco found out they gave him up. Only problem is they hadn't given him up. It was a blank fucking wall.

"Do I look stupid?" she said finally.

"No, no, it's hidden," Crabbe said.

She stared at him some more. "Okay, now you're just making fun of me."

He shook his head fiercely as though afraid of having her think that, and stepped away from the wall. He walked past it a couple of times, and a door appeared. Well she'll be damned. It _was_ hidden. That was new.

"What is this?" she asked, confused. For a moment she caught the smug look on Goyle's face. Not every day he knows something someone else doesn't.

"Secret room Draco found," Goyle said. "But no one ain't supposed to know nothing. You can't go in there. No, no, no. Can't let you."

"And I suppose you think you can stop me?"

They looked nervously at each other. She scoffed and pushed past them, throwing open the door, and walking in. When she closed the door behind her, Crabbe and Goyle's grunting protests were silenced. She looked around in amazement. It was just _stuff_. That's all there was. There was stuff piled upon stuff, which was piled upon more piles of more stuff. Did she mention there was a lot of stuff? She took one step toward the mountains of objects, when she heard a voice from somewhere deep within.

"What do you want?" Draco's voice called.

"Where are you?" she called back.

"Who the fuck is that?" he shouted.

Oops. "Erm, it's Rose!"

A pause. "Get out!"

"No, I won't! Where are you?" she demanded again, already following the sound of his voice.

"I'm serious, Martell, get out!"

She continued through the maze of things that piled up like skyscrapers around her. Several times, she nearly tripped at a fallen object in her path. She walked cautiously past precarious looking piles, hoping they wouldn't suddenly collapse on her. She wondered where all this stuff came from. Some of it was useless junk. Old books, broken ink bottles, dirty jars, deflated Quaffles, Bludgers, Beaters' bats, unpaired shoes, dusty robes, stained parchment, and all kinds of stupid things that would never do anyone any good. She wondered if this was where all the trash in Hogwarts went like some kind of junkyard. She called for Draco a few more times, but when he realized she was following his voice, he stopped answering. She briefly realized that she was missing class as she continued forward. Deciding this was more important, she drove the thought from her mind. After another minute or two, she found Draco sitting on the floor next to a large cabinet, head in his hands.

"Draco?" she said cautiously.

He looked up, a scowl quickly forming his lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," she said, stepping around a large box, and nearly tripping on a telescope, "I'm obviously not here to enjoy a relaxing evening in front of a cozy fire with some warm butterbeer. What are _you_ doing here?"

He raised his eyebrow. "I'm busy."

"I can see that. Draco, what's going on? You need to start talking. Now."

He hesitated for a while, taking a deep breath. "You need to go."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, planting herself down beside him to emphasize it.

"It's…complicated."

"I'm a pretty clever girl. I think I can keep up," she said acidly.

"First, why don't you tell me something."

"Go on."

"What do you think of your parents?"

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Your parents," he repeated slowly. "What do you think of them?"

"I think they're twats, but I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"And why do you think they're twats?" he continued.

"I don't really think it's any of your business, Draco!" she replied defensively.

"Alright, fair enough. What about my parents?"

"Draco, can you just come out with it? What is this all about?" She was growing impatient.

"I'm just trying to understand you, is all," he answered, eyes squinting in scrutiny.

"Understand me how?"

"Understand how you think, and what you will think of me when I tell you this. It's quite a bit to take in, and if I wasn't very aware of how stubborn you are, I wouldn't even tell you, but I know you'll never let this go." He laughed when she shrugged in agreement. "But here's the thing: you've already agreed to marry me, right? And you're not going to back out, are you? Because so help me Merlin, if I get stuck with Pansy…"

"Draco, will you please just tell me?"

"Like I said, it's complicated. Right, yeah, you're clever; I understand that. I just want _you_ to understand that there's a lot more to this than you might think. It's a very long story."

"Give me the condensed version."

"How condensed?" he asked, looking at her.

"As condensed as it gets."

"Okay," he nodded, taking a very deep breath, and letting it out slowly. He opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, opened it again, and finally closed it. She looked at him, waiting for a response. His eyes shifted downward, and she followed his gaze to land on his arm. He had pulled his sleeve up to reveal a dark green tattoo of a snake protruding from a skull. The Dark Mark.

"Fuck, Draco!" she shouted, jumping up. "What the fuck is that?"

"What does it look like?" he replied, completely calm.

"It looks like a goddamn fucking Dark Mark. What the fuck is it doing on your skin?!"

"There's really no need to shout, Martell," he said, pulling his sleeve back down, and removing his robe altogether.

"No need—No need to shout?! You have a fucking Dark Mark on your fucking arm! Bloody hell, Draco! Are you completely mental?"

"I don't understand why you're getting so worked up about this," he sighed, getting to his feet.

"Draco, you're a bloody fool, you know that? Do you want to get yourself killed? Or thrown into Azkaban with your father? Hmm? Is that what this is about?"

"No!" he cried reproachfully.

"Then what? Enlighten me! Because I very much fail to see why you would ever sign yourself over like that."

"I guess I had you pegged completely wrong," he said, shaking his head. "Well, no, I didn't. I had a feeling you'd react this way, but I was hoping I was wrong. I thought you were for the Dark Lord, not against him. Who would have thought? Might as well just go join Potter now, eh?"

"No, Draco. I happen to be very supportive of the Dark Lord and whatever the fuck it is he's doing. He wants to go around killing mudbloods at every turn, be my fucking guest, but I would never sign my _life_ over to him. You're a complete idiot. He'll kill you, Draco. As soon as you stop being of any use to him, he'll kill you. And he'll do it without a second thought. He doesn't give a shit about you! Do you think he does? You're just another kid with too much ambition. Merlin knows why he let you in—oh, fuck. Draco, no. Tell me this isn't about your father."

"I already told you," he said through clenched teeth, "it's complicated."

"No, it isn't. You think this'll make everything okay? It won't. Lucius got captured and thrown into Azkaban, Draco. Nothing short of his escape, capture, and personal delivery of Potter will make that okay. Certainly nothing _you_ can do will make it okay."

"You don't know that!"

"Don't I?" she shouted. "Tell me what it is you're doing here, Draco! Because I can guarantee you it sure as fuck is not worth your time or your goddamn life!"

"I don't think you want to know," he said, turning away.

"I very much want to know. Tell me. Go on." She sat on the box she had stepped around earlier, staring straight at Draco with an expectant expression.

"He's given me a job—a mission, if you will. See this?" He pointed to the cabinet they had been sitting against. "This is a vanishing cabinet. I'm mending it. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's pretty destroyed. There's another one just like in Borgin and Burkes, see? If I can properly mend this one, it can act as passageway. Almost like a floo network. You step into one, and come out of the other."

"Then what? I doubt he asked you to mend a cabinet, and assume that would be enough."

"Well, no. See, I'm supposed to fix it so the Death Eaters can get into the school. And then I have to…" He mumbled the rest of it, looking away.

"What was that?"

"I," he cleared his throat, "have to kill Albus Dumbledore."

She stared at him for a moment, then slapped her hands on her thighs, and stood up. "Right, well, it was nice knowing you! I'll see you again in Hell!" She turned to walk away, but Draco grabbed her arm.

"You can't tell anyone, Rose," he said, looking her directly in the eyes, conveying the seriousness of the situation.

"Don't worry, I won't. They'd cart me off to the loony bin if I said a word. No one would ever believe this." She turned again, then looked back at him. "You know, I always thought you were a little off in the head. But that you have a death wish? I never thought you were _that_ stupid."

"You don't understand!" he shouted.

"I understand perfectly! But this won't fix _anything_, Draco. It won't! You're going to fail. One way or another, you're going to fail. And you know what will happen then? He'll kill you. Or, better yet, he'll make an example of you. And trust me when I say, I hope to Merlin he kills you instead. It'll be less painful."

"I will not fail!" he yelled. He stepped up to her, his face just inches from hers. "I-will-not-fail," he said through clenched teeth.

"We'll see." She sighed, and took his face into her hands, looking intently into his eyes, gaining his complete attention. When she felt him relax his jaw beneath her fingers, she finally spoke. "I just hope I don't have to see it. Don't make me see it, Draco. There's no backing out now, so you better try your damned hardest to make something work, because you will die. And when you die, then what will I do?"

She let his face go, and walked back through the towers, leaving him in the labyrinth of hidden things alone.


	8. Insufferable Prat

**Shades of Grey**  
Chapter 8: Insufferable Prat

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Are these even necessary anymore?  
**Author's Note:** READGO.

* * *

"Can I help?" Rose asked, stifling a yawn.

She sat upon the same box she had settled herself into when Draco first told her of his "mission." Now she sat there again, against her better judgment. She should have distanced herself from Draco and his slow spiral towards death, but she couldn't make herself do that. She felt more drawn to him now than ever before. Over the last few days, she accompanied Draco to the Room of Hidden Things and watched as he struggled with the cabinet. He was stressed and tired all the time. She felt genuine concern when she saw him like this. That concern often evaporated when they weren't alone in the Room anymore; he was just as rude and tactless as ever. But she always saw the stress in his eyes, the way he was always haunted by his thoughts. She tried to ignore it, but every time she saw him here, in the darkness of the clutter, it gripped at her.

"No, you can't," he answered, his voice thick with regret.

"Why not?"

He didn't answer. She waited for him to respond, but when he continued to work in silence, it became apparent he had no intention to. She sighed.

"Why not, Malfoy?" she repeated with more authority. "Because _He_ won't let you?"

"That's right. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. He'd kill me if he found out." She glared. "No, I don't mean literall—"

"Yes, you do. That's the worst part. He _would_ kill you. He'd kill you for just about anything."

"You're wrong. He's not like that."

"I am not wrong! What makes you think he wouldn't?"

"Because he needs me."

She laughed. "Bloody hell, you're stupid. He does not _need_ you. You're just a kid, for Merlin's sake. You're more disposable than any of his worthless Death Eaters."

"Mind your tongue, Martell!" he roared. "We are not worthless. My parents are **not** worthless. And neither am I! I'm the beginning of the new generation. You'll see."

She stood up. "I can't be around you when you're like this," she groaned, turning away.

Rose hadn't walked more than two feet, when Draco's quiet voice spoke behind her. "Don't go," he whispered.

She turned around and looked at him; the expression she saw on his increasingly pale face broke her heart.

**. . .**

Rose didn't return to the Room the next day. She made up a lame excuse about not feeling well and opted to stay in her dorm. She didn't talk to Daphne, afraid of what she might tell her by accident. She swore to keep Draco's mission a secret. A part of her wished that she could tell Daphne, just so that she'd have someone to talk about it with; someone to help her sort through this mess. But, alas, she could not utter a word to anyone. There was always Crabbe and Goyle — Draco's only other confidantes — but for all the conversation they would provide, she might as well have talked to her pillow. She groaned into the aforementioned pillow, unable to fall asleep. Thoughts of Draco continued to circulate her mind for hours until she fell asleep. When she finally did fall asleep, she was haunted by blurry dreams of Dark Marks and wedding gowns.

**. . .**

She woke up the next morning to Daphne's shaking. She was yelling at her to wake up and get to breakfast, but Rose just simply had not slept enough to manage it. After several minutes of whining, Rose finally got out of bed and into her robes for the day. Draco wasn't at the breakfast table. She suspected he'd been up all night, without her there to urge him on to bed. She regretted not going with him the night before, but she didn't want to face him after what had happened. The look of pain, dread, and vulnerability that she saw displayed across his features was heart wrenching. She saw something she didn't want to see. He was scared, and she knew it. He'd never admit it, but he was. She wished that there was something she could do, but there wasn't. He was completely on his own, whether he wanted to be or not, and there was not a single thing she could have done to change that. He would never forgive her if she told anyone, that much was certain. So she sat with the burden of his troubles and his secrets, keeping it locked inside her, a plastic smile on her face, a fake laugh ringing out at a joke to which she didn't even hear the punchline.

"…'s so obvious," Pansy's shrill voice floated into her thoughts.

"What's so obvious, Parkinson?" she sneered.

"What's going on with you and Draco. You're faking it! It's all very obvious," she nodded, as if proud of herself for making the connection.

"I don't have time for you right now," Rose sighed, standing up.

"See?" she said to Millicent. "She didn't even bother denying it."

"I'm not dignifying you with a response, Parkinson."

"Call it what you will, but I'm positive that I'm right. You never kiss, or even hold hands. Merlin knows you definitely don't have sex," she scoffed.

"That's where you're wrong," Rose replied smugly. "I _have_ had sex with Draco Malfoy. Even in his very own house, as a matter of fact!"

"You're lying."

"Am not. Guest room upstairs? Dark blue drapes? Undecorated, big bed, relatively small? When you jump on the bed — or more accurately have wild sex on it — it makes a faint squeak?"

Pansy's expression grew dark. Rose looked on with triumph, turned, and walked away.

"She's lying, Pansy," she heard Millicent console her. Pansy had no response.

Once out of the Great Hall, Rose exhaled deeply. _Why_ did she just bring that up? What had possessed her? She swore to herself never to mention that. Saying it only made it seem like a reality, and that's something she never wanted to do: make that horrible, horrible night a reality. She was perfectly content with storing it away in the deepest, darkest cupboard of her mind, and never thinking of it again. Rose stalked off toward class, angry with Pansy for making her say it, angrier with herself for even thinking of it, and angrier still at Draco Malfoy for having done it in the first place.

**. . .**

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall drawled. Draco didn't reply as he took a seat next to Rose.

"Where's Daphne?" he whispered.

"Sick in bed," Rose replied, and Draco nodded as though he didn't actually care and was only asking as a courtesy.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" asked Rose, her brow creasing.

"I didn't," he said in a stiff voice. "Just getting back now."

She looked up at him in horror before fishing in her bag for a piece of candy. "Want one?" she asked politely.

Draco willingly took the first bit of food he's had in Merlin knew how long. His nose immediately started gushing blood. Rose shot her hand in the air.

"Professor!" she called.

McGonagall took one look at Draco's shocked face and waved both of them out of the room. Rose grabbed her stuff, and dragged Draco out of the room by his unbloodied hand.

"Here, eat this," she said when they left the room. He backed away in fear. "It'll make it stop."

He hesitated for a second before swallowing the candy in one gulp. The blood flow stopped at once. Rose took out her wand and cleaned up the mess. Draco looked positively livid.

"What was _that_?" he sputtered.

"Skiving Snackbox." He stared blankly. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? The new shop in Diagon Alley?"

"Ugh, you buy things from those blood traitors?"

"I'm sure their products haven't got any sort of disease on them that will make you love muggles," she replied sarcastically. He huffed in annoyance. "We have to talk."

He sighed. "Again?"

She gave him a stern look. "Again." She grabbed his hand and led him into an alcove.

"Why does it seem like you always have something to say, Martell? Especially when I don't _care_ what you have to say."

"Cut it out, Malfoy. I'm being serious. You need to take a break. I can't keep seeing you like this. You don't sleep, you barely eat, you look like a mess, you're falling behind in your studies—"

"Studies," he scoffed. "What do I care for my studies?"

"You should care a lot. Think what you will, but they're just as important now as they ever were."

"Says the girl that hasn't done a scrap of homework in her life!"

"Don't you worry about me. I've got myself taken care of. It's you we're talking about now. You need a break. A long, healthy break."

"I can't do that. It's not my decision to make. If He wants me to take a break, then I will."

"What do you mean it's not your choice?" she asked in anger. "This is _your_ life. What? You think it's _His_ now? No. You're a human being, Draco. He doesn't control you!"

"Yes, he does. I can't expect you to understand," he muttered darkly.

"Then explain it to me, Draco. I seem to continually have a hard time bloody _understanding_."

"You can't possibly understand the devotion I feel for him. He needs me and loves me. You can't understand the trust and respect we have. He's going to give me everything. I'll never need anything but his protection and providing. I will be honoured beyond everyone else. He not only has my life, he deserves it."

She stared at him blankly. "Respect?" He nodded. "Trust?" He nodded. "_Love_?" He nodded. "And you really believe that?" He nodded. "Then you're more of a fool than I thought. Want to know what I think? I think you're going to fail in this task, and then you know what will happen? He'll kill you without a moment's hesitation. He'll kill all of you in cold blood. You, your mother, your father — who should consider himself lucky that he's in Azkaban, because he'll be dead if he ever gets out. Not that he won't have deserved what he got—"

"Enough!" he shouted, and hit her face so hard with the back of his hand that she stumbled backward into the wall. He gripped her chin between his fingers and turned her head to face him. "Don't you dare speak of my father that way. He will come back a _hero_, and if he doesn't come back, he'll _die_ a hero. You don't understand anything."

He released her face, letting her head hit the back of the wall with a thud. Sparks erupted in front of her eyes. She blinked them away, defiant.

"Does it make it better?" she said, looking straight at him. "Does it make you feel better when you hit me? I know why you do it. You feel weak and useless, so you hit me to assert your power. But it won't work; I'm not hurt, because I know that you _are_ weak, feeble, and powerless. Funnily enough, you're just like Him. He kills all the people he does for the same reasons that you hit me; he feels weak. He wants to show that he's better than them. And for that, he _is_ weak. You both are."

"Well aren't you just the muggle-lover. Off to join Potter and his crusade any minute now," Draco said angrily.

"No, I'm just a big fan of not being a mindless drone to a fascist tyrant," she spat.

"Is that so?" he sneered, gripping her throat in his right hand. "And who's going to save your life when that so-called fascist tyrant rules over all, and you'll be marked a traitor?"

"I'm sure I'll have my strong, scary Death Eater husband to protect me," she said acidly through her teeth.

Draco's grip suddenly tightened on her as he leaned his lips to her ear. "I'll kill you myself," he whispered.

Rose's gut went cold, and she froze. He trailed his tongue under her jaw line, and kissed her cheek before releasing her. She watched him walk away, still frozen in shock. He didn't look back as he left, and she was glad for it. Shaking herself out, she started walking back toward Transfiguration. She didn't want to go back to class now, but she felt it was the safest place for her, where she couldn't be alone with her thoughts, or alone with him.

**. . .**

For the rest of the day, Draco was nowhere in sight. As she had guessed, he didn't go back to Transfiguration after their encounter. Rose covered for him by saying he was in the Hospital Wing. When he didn't come to any other classes, she knew he must have retreated back to the Hidden Room. Rose ground her teeth against the thought. If he wanted to destroy his life, then good riddance. Even as she thought that, she knew she didn't believe it. She knew that if he were to be killed, she would be devastated.

The entire group of them were sitting together in the Slytherin Common Room that night. Everyone was there and having a relatively good time. Blaise and Daphne were engrossed in a mediocre game of Wizard's Chess—Blaise wasn't very good, and Daphne was okay at best—while Theodore watched, whispering suggestions in Daphne's ear. Pansy was sorting through her Chocolate Cards alone, seeing as no one really talked to her anymore, unless you counted Millicent, who was in detention. Crabbe and Goyle sat next to each other awkwardly, shooting anxious glances around the room. Rose festered, letting herself laugh when the game in front of her turned into a pointless argument on cheating—this happened after every other move. Only one person was missing.

"Where's Draco?" Theodore suddenly piped up, as if reading her thoughts. "I haven't seen him all day."

"I'm sure Rose would know," Pansy wheezed, shooting Rose a pointed look as though by not knowing where Draco spent the day, it proved once and for all that their engagement was fake.

"In the dormitory, sleeping," Blaise volunteered, groaning in defeat as Daphne took his second Bishop.

Right on cue, Draco came waltzing into the Common Room, looking more rested than Rose had seen him since Christmas holiday. He glanced around with a raised eyebrow, seemingly confused by the crowded Common Room. He looked at his watched, and his eyes popped a bit.

"Draco, mate, do you want to play a round of chess?" Blaise asked, clearly giving up on playing against Daphne and Theodore.

Draco faltered, and looked at his watch again. "Uh, I can't right now," he answered hastily.

"Oh, don't mind him," Rose interrupted in a bitter tone. "Draco has this thing where he can't make his own decisions. I'm sure participating in a trivial activity like chess would require weeks worth of paper work."

Draco shot daggers at her. "Can I speak to you outside, Rose?" he said through gritted teeth.

"I don't know, _can_ you?" she shot back icily.

He made a low growling noise in his throat, and dragged her out of the Common Room by her arm, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to stay seated on his way out. She followed him out of the Common Room, his grip on her arm alarmingly tight. When he let her go in the corridor, she had to rub her skin to get the blood flowing. She saw that his hands stayed clenched in fists at his sides. She struck a nerve, evidently. A smirk almost spread across her face. Almost. She wasn't stupid.

"What are you doing?" he spat angrily.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," she replied innocently.

"If they found out—they can't find out, okay?"

"I still don't see why not. They're your friends; I'm sure they'd understand. Not to mention their parents are all Death Eaters, so Merlin knows they wouldn't tell anyone."

"That's not the point. They can't know," he insisted.

"But why!" she groaned in exasperation. "Crabbe and Goyle know. Why can't the others?"

He snorted. "Crabbe and Goyle don't know anything. Their job is to keep watch over the Room. They think that I'm entrusting them with more than they're worth just because they can get into it. And of course they're right."

Rose couldn't help but smile a little.

"In truth, besides Snape, you're the only one that knows what I'm up to." He paused. "Actually, I don't know if he's too sure what's going on either. Congratulations, Martell, you're just that special."

"Gee, thanks," she answered in a sarcastic tone, but smiled at him nonetheless.

His face grew serious. "Are you coming today?" he asked hopefully.

She thought for just a second. There wasn't any reason not to go. And truthfully, she liked going to the Room with Draco. She liked to watch him work, and talk to him without the pressure of anyone listening. They act like themselves, like idiots, like two friends. And it had been a couple of days since she'd been there last. It wasn't long, but already she felt herself missing their time in the Room. The fight from the morning seemed years away, and so unimportant now as she looked at his expectant face, that she almost forgot it happened.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she said.

He grinned.

**. . .**

"So you'll never guess what happened today in the Great Hall!" Rose said, suddenly remembering.

Draco's voice came muffled from within the Vanishing Cabinet, "What?"

"Come on out, you have to hear this," she insisted.

Draco pulled himself out of the Cabinet, and dusted off decade-old dust as he did. She laughed a little as he sneezed from it. She felt like a child, finding unamusing things funny. He glared at her, but ruined his stance by sneezing again. Rose promptly laughed. He pretended to ignore her. Really, how old were they? She smiled as she realized she didn't care that they were acting like children.

"Okay, so go on. What happened?"

"Pansy Parkinson happened," Rose began plainly.

"Oh no," he groaned, already sensing the story wasn't going anywhere good.

"She's under the impression that you're faking your engagement to me in order to make her jealous."

He stared at Rose for a moment, waiting for her to say she was joking. Then he laughed. "Bloody nutter," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, aside from the making her jealous part, I can see where she can be mistaken. She says we don't act like we like each other."

"Because we don't," he reminded her.

"That's not true! I like you!" He gave her a look. "You know, occasionally. When you're not being an insufferable prat."

"Me?" he asked in outrage. "You're the prat!"

"Am not! You're such a wanker," she replied.

"I won't deny that one," he nodded. She laughed. "So what did you say to her?"

"That she was full of shit, obviously."

"I'm sure that got her off your case." He rolled his eyes.

"I told her that we have sex. I thought she was going to have a heart attack. It was brilliant. You should have seen her face."

"She believed you?" he asked skeptically.

"I gave detailed," Rose shrugged.

He nodded for a moment, as though this made sense. Then stopped, realizing she had to have gotten the details from somewhere. And it finally dawned on him. "Oohh," he said.

An awkward silence ensued.

* * *

**A/N:** I am so grateful for everyone that is reading and reviewing. If you're only reading, not reviewing, I am less grateful. If you're only reviewing, not reading, I am...confused. What are you doing?

No, seriously, reviews are beyond appreciated.


	9. Memory

**Shades of Grey  
**9. Memory

**Disclaimer:** Blah blah don't own.  
**Author's Note:** I don't know how good I am at this. I _hope_ you like it. Oh, also, rated Mature, yeah?

* * *

_**15 June 1996** _

She wandered through the upstairs hallway of the Malfoy Manor, not exactly sure where she was. She had long forgotten why she ventured upstairs to begin with, her mind too clouded with alcohol to think clearly. She felt lost. Surely this hallway couldn't be as long as it seemed. The doors all seemed identical, and stretched on for ages. She thought of being in the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's. Fearing that her mind jumped to such conclusions because she really was crazy, she turned around to go back. The hallway seemed to stretched out for miles in front of her. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only made her dizzy, and she had to grip the wall to keep from falling.

"What are you doing up here?" drawled a familiar voice from very far away.

"'Oo's 'er?" she mumbled unintelligibly.

"It's me. Draco," he announced slowly, enunciating. "Rose, what are you doing? You're not supposed to be up here."

She smiled widely, stepping towards him, but he seemed so far away. She reached her hand out, and hit him in the face. _Objects in eyesight are closer than they appear_.

"What are you doing?" Draco hissed, grabbing her wrist.

She giggled. "Oops. Sorry!"

"Merlin, how drunk are you?" he said, lowering his hand, but not letting go of her wrist. "You need to lie down."

"Aw, Draco, you're sooo sweet. Are you going to take care of me?" She giggled again.

"Please don't giggle like that," he cringed.

Draco led them down the seemingly endless hallway, and opened one of the doors. She stumbled after him, tripping over her own feet as she stepped into the room. The room was practically empty. There was a large bed, a wardrobe, a mirror, and a big window in the back with the curtains opened wide. Rose looked around, fell onto the bed, and looked up at Draco.

"Is this your room?" she asked, suppressing another giggle. She stretched out on the bed lazily. "It's not very pretty."

"No, this isn't my room," he answered, stepping towards the bed. "It's a guest room. Mine is much bigger."

She didn't miss the smirk in his voice on the last part. She looked up. "Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?"

Trying her hardest not to fall, Rose stood up and sauntered over toward Draco. He stood there with his everlasting smirk, giving her a once-over. The smell of alcohol on her breath was intoxicating in and of itself. As she opened her mouth to speak, a gust of it hit Draco, and he scrunched his face up. Rose laughed and covered her mouth. She tried to speak again, not letting out too much breath. When she opened her mouth, however, she found she had nothing to say. She faltered for a moment before reaching up and planting a kiss on Draco's lips. It was the kind of kiss that an 8-year-old girl gives to that one kid she thinks is cute, but he doesn't feel the same because he thinks she has cooties, and she runs off afterward, giggling to all her friends in pink dresses about what she did while he stands there dazed, not sure if that was gross or if he likes her now. But Rose didn't go anywhere; she stood in front of Draco, not fully aware of what she had done. His smirk spread.

She stared at him for another long moment, then nodded as if settling a matter, and retreated to the bed. Staying seated seemed to be a little too much effort, so she struggled against falling back and going to sleep for a little while. Eventually, Rose got her bearings. She looked up and patted the bed next to her. Draco only hesitated a second before sitting beside her. Rose yawned loudly and leaned against him. Draco stiffened at her touch. She felt heavy, her full body weight on him. Her warm breath blew on his arm, raising goosebumps on his skin.

"Draco," she mumbled sleepily.

"Hmm?" he replied absently.

"You're very comfortable," she said as she moved closer, until her arms were all the way around him, her head on his shoulder, he leg draped over his. He stroked her hair, occasionally tugging on it to keep her awake.

"I want to sleep," she muttered. "Sleep with me, Draco."

He smirked at her unintentional double meaning. As he did, he found himself thinking of the prospect. That wouldn't be too bad at all, he thought. It certainly would be a nice change from Pansy, who's hair wasn't this soft, touch wasn't this light, body wasn't this warm, and Merlin knew wasn't this attractive—though that wasn't saying much.

He pushed her chin up toward his face, and kissed her briefly, then checked her face for a reaction. She grinned goofily. He smirked and kissed her again, more fiercely this time.

Rose didn't realize what was going on at first, her mind too heavy with Firewhiskey. She felt Draco's heated lips against hers, the faintest smell of rum on his breath. His hands gripped the back of her head, pushing her to him. She kissed him back, their tongues slipping over each other. Draco seemed to take her sudden involvement as encouragement, and pushed her backward, on to the bed. Pain shot through her skull as her head hit the mattress. She felt the pillow directly above her, but Draco's weight prevented her from going up and laying on it. His entire body pressed into hers, fingers roaming her sides.

It suddenly got very cold, and she realized she was naked, her clothes having been stripped off. The cold made her shiver, and the shiver made her ache all over. She reached up, searching for warmth. She felt it against her again and recognized it as body heat. Draco's warm body lay on top of her again, this time completely bare. She smelled his breath on her as he lowered to kiss her again. As their lips moved together, she felt something slip into her, and Rose let out a gasp. She felt him smirk. He trailed his lips down her neck, sucking hard on the skin there. It took a minute to recognize the movement inside her as that of fingers, and found herself moaning and moving against them. She could barely make out Draco's features above her. He hovered his face there for a moment, and Rose tried to blink away the blurriness to get a good look at him. His eyes were half-closed, and he was biting his lip. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not. She blinked again. Her vision kept blurring, so she gave up and closed her eyes, feeling the vibration of a moan in her throat.

With no warning, he removed his fingers from inside her. She whimpered in annoyance. He laughed. She felt his body shake against her. Her head rippled with pain. He started kissing her neck again, a hand working at her breasts, making her nipples hard at his touch. His lips moved along her jaw. She felt his breath at her ear and realized he was whispering to her. She tried to focus on what he was saying.

"Rose," he murmured.

"Mm," she answered.

"Rose," Draco repeated, "Do you want this?"

She couldn't understand what he meant, her brain not working properly. She made a noncommittal sound in reply. He let out a sudden growl and plunged himself inside her. Rose's eyes shot wide open, the room a mix of colours that didn't seem to belong together. A mixture of pain and pleasure shot through her—more things that didn't belong together, like the colours. She noticed that she had stopped breathing, and let out a gust of breath, a loud noise coming with it. Draco paused for a moment, probably gauging her reaction. She wondered what he saw or what he thought. She figured she didn't actually care. After two more seconds, she moaned in impatience. He let out of a moan of his own and began moving into her. She clawed at his back, trying to get a grip on him, but probably only leaving scratches on his skin in the process. The colours of the room began to seperate, and things came into focus. Draco's face was above her, moving back and forth with each thrust. The ceiling was plain behind him, with light from outside splaying unrecognizable patterns on the paint. He went with more force, and she arched her back, slamming her fists onto the bed at her sides, and grabbing a fistful of sheets. A faint voice in her mind wondered if anyone could hear her, but everything clouded her brain all at once and the thought was gone.

Draco's rhythm continued to increase in speed and strength, and Rose felt her spine tingle with pleasure at each thrust. After a little more of this, she lost control and screamed so loud Draco had to smother her by taking her mouth to his again. The kiss was half-hearted as they both released and moaned into each other. Everything mixed. Their voices, their tongues, their bodies, the colours around her—until nothing was left except the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

**A/N: **Likeee I said, I don't know how good I am at this stuff. Sorry if I'm not. Awesome if I am. Let me know? Seriously, thoughts. Button. Click. Review. I beg.


	10. Lies and Slander

**Shades of Grey  
**10. Lies and Slander

* * *

**Disclaimer:** These stopped being necessary a long time ago. Yet I still write them. Bitterness over not owning a thing.  
**Author's Note:** Isn't it great when I actually write and update?

* * *

Rose watched Draco's retreating figure, which was slightly obscured by Crabbe and Goyle who were lumbering alongside. His cloak blew out behind him as the wind grew stronger. He pulled his hood up over his ears, head bent against the current. She heard Daphne cluck her tongue impatiently behind her. She tore her gaze away from Draco and looked at her.

"What?" Rose asked.

"Nothing."

"No, it's clearly something. Speak your mind."

"I'm just wondering what's going on with you and Draco," Daphne said.

"What do you mean?"

"You were out all night with him yesterday, for instance."

"So?"

"So I'm a little confused; you're not telling me anything anymore. Are you sleeping together?"

"No!" she cried defensively. Daphne shrugged. "We're not. Really."

"So then, what?"

"Why are you suddenly so curious?" Rose asked.

"Because you two obviously have something going on that you're not telling me."

"Don't you worry, Daphne. If anything happens there, you will be the first to know."

"I better be."

Rose laughed and led Daphne away in the direction of the Common Room. As they walked, Rose replayed her time with Draco in her head, realizing that to anyone but themselves, it _would_ look like something was going on. The way they snuck out at night, shared silent exchanges across classrooms, laughed at jokes no one understood, fought about things that made little sense. Yes, to anyone else it would definitely seem like something was going on. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, what with them being betrothed, but she hated having Daphne think she was keeping secrets from her best friend, of all people. She would tell her in a heartbeat, but there was nothing to tell. Everything going on between her and Draco had to do with the Vanishing Cabinet, and it was most certainly not her place to talk about that to anyone. She watched as Daphne threw her school bag on her bed in frustration, and wished she could tell her everything right then and there. But she knew she couldn't, no matter how much she craved a confidante.

"Daphne, I'm going to skip dinner," Rose announced, rummaging through her trunk. "I need to go talk to Malfoy."

She sighed. "What are you not telling me, Rosie?"

"Nothing! Honestly, it's nothing. I just need to ask him something."

"And you can't do that while planted firmly on the ground?" She nodded toward the Cleansweep in Rose's hand.

"Nope," she replied, walking out.

**. . .**

"MALFOY!" she yelled, looking up at the sky where Draco was flying around. Crabbe and Goyle approached her as if to scare her off, but she just glared at them. They faltered for a moment, then stood their ground, not advancing. Draco touched down after a minute, looking surprised to see her.

"What're you doing here?"

She nodded towards Crabbe and Goyle. "Can we be alone for a minute?"

"Go have dinner," he ordered them. They looked beyond happy as they scampered off in the direction of the castle and its delicious food.

"You brought your broom," he stated; not asking why, just observing.

She nodded. "Can we fly for a bit? I haven't decided what I want to say yet."

He looked at her in confusion, then mounted his broom and took off. She followed suit. They flew in circles around the pitch, the goal posts, and each other for a while. She wondered why she had come there. Something about her thoughts made her want to see him. Something about her conversation. But she didn't know what. There was something nagging at her, telling her to be there, but she had nothing to say. She actually feared touching down to the ground because she didn't know what to expect, and was worried that whatever happened wouldn't be good. Would it be different than in the Room, even though they were alone? He would probably act like a complete jerk, and she would walk back to the castle alone feeling awful. It was this that kept her in the air. It was the fear of landing and having to face Draco with not a word to say, hearing him tell her not to waste his time, and to stay away from him.

Whenever he flew close to her, she would jerk her broom in the other direction to avoid him. This was pointless. Briefly, she contemplated just turning and flying back to the castle; that would be a sure way of avoiding confrontation. But it would make it a hundred times more awkward later on. Why, why, why did she come here? What made her want to? She tried to think back again. Daphne said something to her, and then she thought something, and then she did something. A lot of somethings resulting in even more nothings. Maybe, she thought, what she wanted would suddenly come to her when she stood there to talk to him. Deciding this was the best she could do, Rose motioned Draco downward, and they both descended.

"You've got quite a bit of talent on that broom, Martell," Draco commended as he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forhead, despite the cool night. "Ever think of taking up Quidditch?"

She allowed herself a laugh. "Thanks, but it's one thing to know how to fly, another entirely to be able to catch and throw at the same time."

"Fair enough," he agreed with a chuckle. "So what can I do you for?"

She hesitated. A moment passed in which she stared at the ground. "I'm not really sure why I came here, Draco," she finally admitted.

"Well that's...weird."

"Yeah, quite a bit. I've just been thinking."

"About me, no doubt," he offered smugly.

"Uh-huh," replied Rose, rolling her eyes. "You're right, but not just about you. About us. In general."

"There's an us?"

"Well, yeah. You plus me equals us. It's called the English language, Draco. Look it up."

"Right," he nodded. "What about us?"

"People are starting to wonder about what we're up to. And by people, I mean Daphne. I don't really lie to her, Draco; she's my best mate. But I have nothing to tell her here. You're so bent on keeping this whole thing a giant secret, but I don't think you realize that we've been sneaking around a whole lot, acting very private. What are people supposed to think? What are we supposed to tell them?"

"Merlin, you have quite a lot going on in that tiny little head of yours, don't you? It's none of anyone else's busines. And if you recall, we're supposed to be engaged," he reminded her, stepping closer. "I think it's perfectly acceptable for us to be sneaking around together, don't you think?"

"And Daphne?" Rose pressed, taking a step back. "What about her?"

"Lie to her."

"No."

"You have no choice," he said, walking forward. "This is important. More important than anything. She can't know; she doesn't need to. Just let it go. She'll get over it, I'm sure."

"Yeah, but—"

"Let it go," he repeated.

Was he really close to her, or was she hallucinating? No, no, he was really close to her. She could feel his breath on her face. And smell it. Which was less attractive. It smelled like licorice. She didn't care for licorice. But somehow she was suddenly more concerned about the smell of her own breath than his. What was the last thing she ate? She was chewing on a Sugar Quill earlier in class today. And after that? She couldn't remember. Merlin, she hoped she smelled like Sugar Quills and not something completely disgusting.

"Still alive in there, Rose?" he asked suddenly.

She realized she had gotten lost in her awkward thoughts about breath. He chuckled at her. "Fine, I'll keep it from Daphne. I'll lie, whatever. What's the story, then? She thinks we're sleeping together."

He shrugged. "So tell her we are."

"Oh no. I'm definitely not doing that."

"And why not?" The volume of his voice dropped several notches.

"B-because we're not," she stuttered. For a second, she wanted to roll her eyes at herself. Did she really stutter? When does that happen?

He chuckled again. "Well we could start. That way you wouldn't have to lie to her," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Rose groaned in annoyance, and took a step back. "Why do you have to be such an idiot?" she asked.

"What? Did I spoil the moment?" he mocked. "'B-b-b-b-b-ecause, Draaaco!'"

He laughed at his horrid and over-exaggerated impression of her. She scowled at him. She should have known. Typical Malfoy. She sighed, picked up her broom, and turned to go.

"Wait up, Martell," he called, still laughing. He jogged up beside her. "I was joking. Calm down."

"You're a pig, Malfoy. Leave me alone."

"Touchy."

She ignored him and kept walking. Why she bothered, she didn't even know. She stood there and contemplated the smell of his _breath,_ for Merlin's sake. How pathetic can a person possibly be for _that_ to happen? She could just about kick herself. She could still hear Draco chuckling to himself just a few paces behind her. Rose gripped the handle of her broom so tightly, she imagine it snapping like a twig in her grasp. Good thing she didn't have that kind of strength. If she did, she might have punched Malfoy across the jaw. Come to think of it...

"Martell, slow down," Draco said, interrupting her thoughts. "You're not seriously mad at me, are you? I was just fucking around."

"Glad you were enjoying yourself," she replied, the acid in her voice burned a hole on her tongue.

Draco suddenly grabbed her arm, and turned her to face him. She glared at him with such hatred that hell itself would have frozen over had she not been focusing all of her attention on freezing the insides of the boy in front of her. She suspected his heart was already so cold and dead, it was having no affect. He kept his grip on her arm, not tight or restraining, but just there. He looked her face over, trying to figure out what she was thinking, she supposed. It shouldn't have been hard. Her feelings were pretty plainly displayed. Hatred, hatred, hatred.

"You fancy me," he announced suddenly.

She blinked. It took a moment to process that this in no way was the same as hatred. "I beg your pardon?"

"You fancy me," he repeated, slower this time.

"Do I?" inquired Rose. "And how do you figure this?"

"Because I'm a lot more clever than you give me credit for. It's fine, though. I think it's charming that you fancy me."

"Charming."

"Yeah, charming. Though I hope you know this gives me a huge advantage over you."

"_What_ are you talking about?"

As if demonstrating, he stepped right up to her, and leaned his face down to hover inches from her own. He paused there, his breath growing shallow. His warm, sweet, licorice breath. How she hated licorice. His hand came up to rest on the crook between her neck and shoulder while the other pulled her right against him. She froze, waiting for the kiss she knew would inevitably come. To her surprise, she found she wanted him to kiss her, but didn't have the motor ability to lean forward and do it herself. He looked in her eyes, and she looked back into his. They were grey, with just the faintest shade of blue. Quite a contrast from her brown ones. Though, she often liked to refer to them as exciting colours with names like chestnut or chocolate. It made them sound less plain. But compared to his orbs of melted silver, they were nothing but stupid and brown. Oh dear. Not the time to get into thoughts about her eyes now. What a depressing topic. She focused back on _his_ eyes. His eyelids began to drop over them, and she followed suit. His lips were so close, she swore she could feel them, but they hadn't touched yet.

"And _that_, my dear, is what I'm talking about," he said suddenly, pulling away.

Rose stumbled backward, but caught herself before doing something embarassing like falling over. Draco looked at her smugly, and she slapped him. Yeah, she did it. The moment she did, she regretted it, and flinched against the strike that he would return. But he didn't hit her. He just continued to smirk like he had won a very difficult game and was too proud of himself to let anything ruin it.

"What is the _matter_ with you?" she growled. He laughed, and she walked the rest of the way up to the castle alone, fuming.

**. . .**

Rose was a drug addict. Plain and simple. Because there was no other explanation as to why she insisted on coming back again and again. She was clearly out of her mind, and on drugs. What would make her do it? Why? Was she crazy? Or just masochistic? Maybe a bit of both. And also definitely on drugs. She concluded this with a nod as she sat in her usual place in the Room, watching Draco work on the cabinet. Her eyes lingered a little too long on him as he bent over to look at the Cabinet's floor. She looked away, blushing at having caught herself. Now she was just being ridiculous.

"Enjoying the show?" he asked, shaking his arse for emphasis.

"Very funny, Malfoy. I wasn't even looking at you."

"I'm sure you weren't," he replied, the smirk evident in his voice.

She yawned. "Are we almost done for tonight?"

"We are never done," he answered.

"That's a yes. Let's go to bed." She stood.

"Together?" he said suggestively.

"Get a grip, Malfoy."

"A nice firm one. On you."

She rolled her eyes. He winked at her. Shaking her head, Rose began navigating the familiar path out of the Room, with Draco following closely behind. His arms unexpectedly wrapped around her waist, and his lips leaned down to her ear.

"How long are you going to deny this?" he asked.

She pushed him away. "For as long as I don't fancy you. So it might be a while."

"You're not fooling anyone," he said in a sing-song voice.

"I don't know," she said, turning around. "You don't sound so sure of yourself."

"Well that can't be right, because I am very sure of myself. Face it, you can't resist me. Not that I blame you, of course."

"Tell me, is your head naturally that big, or do you cast engorgement charms every morning so it'll match your ego?"

"I'm naturally big," he stated. The double meaning was not missed.

They walked back to the Common Room without speaking much after that. The Common Room was empty, the fire smoldering, waiting for the house elves to come and tend to it. She wondered when they managed to get that done. She's never seen them do their job before. Sneaky little creatures.

"Goodnight, then, Martell," Draco said with a smirk. "Dream of me."

"I'll be sure not to," she said as he disappeared into the passageway of his dormitory. She retreated to her own and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

* * *

**A/N:** Those things that people call reviews. I hear they're really nice to get. This might just be a rumour, but I say it's worth a try.


	11. Knock On Wood

**Shades of Grey  
**11. Knock On Wood

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Well, you know.  
**Author's Note:** Hahaha, enjoy.

* * *

Light streamed in through the window, waking Rose up, much to her dismay. She tried to turn in the other direction, but she still saw the brightness behind her closed eyelids. She wished the sun never came up. She wished she was a vampire, and slept in the ground or a coffin all day, and she wouldn't have this problem. The sun burning her to a crisp would be a great excuse for avoiding it. Avoiding its annoying rays lighting up her face very early in the morning. She wished the dungeon windows had curtains. The really heavy sort that wouldn block out any flicker light even if they were on fire. _That_ was what the dungeon windows needed.

"Hang on," she mumbled to herself, finally making sense of what was going. She opened one eye and saw Daphne standing with her wand in her hand, a bright ball illuminating its tip, pointed straight at her face.

"Up," she ordered.

Rose groaned.

**. . .**

"You're getting inventive," Rose complained as she buttered a biscuit.

"Yeah, six years does that to you," Daphne replied, taking a bite of sausage.

"What does six years do?" Draco interrupted, rudely settling himself in between Rose and Daphne, and grabbing the biscuit out of Rose's hand.

"Oi! That's mine!" she cried.

"Sharing is caring, love," he said with a full mouth.

"Well I don't care," Rose retorted lamely. What was she, ten?

He nodded. "Sure, sure. So what are you beautiful ladies up to this morning?"

Rose gave him a look. "Are you feeling sick, Draco?"

"No, why would I be?" He put his arm around her. "I am just in an _extremely_ good mood."

"And why is that?" Daphne inquired.

"I'm sure Rose can tell you," he replied suggestively. "We had ourselves some fun last night, didn't we?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish. "What? No! He's lying, Daph, I swear!"

He laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Rose is in love with me," he explained.

Daphne looked at them. "You are by far the strangest boy I have had the misfortune to meet," she announced finally.

"Splendid!" And with that, Draco stood up and strolled from the Great Hall.

Rose and Daphne looked at each other, shrugged, and continued their breakfast.

**. . .**

After Ancient Runes, Rose headed to the Slytherin Common Room for a much deserved break before Potions. Several other students that had a second period break were lounging about on the chairs and couches. Rose took a spot on the armchair she often occupied, and closed her eyes. Nothing could tire her out like an hour and a half of Runes. She'd rather run the permiter of the Quidditch Pitch twice than sit through that every Friday morning. As thoughts of burning the Runes classroom to ashes floated around her mind, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She hoped to Merlin it wasn't who she thought it was. Opening one eye, she looked to see a face hovering above hers, and groaned, knowing she had jinxed herself.

"What do you want now, Malfoy?" she asked rudely.

He smirked as if this were very amusing. "Let me sit with you."

She looked down at the one-person chair she was sitting in. "No. Find your own seat."

"Well, well," came an extremely annoying voice from somewhere behind her. Her day just couldn't get any better. "Draco and Rose are actually interacting. There's something you don't see everyday. Funny. You'd think you would..."

"Parkinson, I think Hagrid was looking for you," Rose mumbled, her eyes still half-closed.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I heard him talking about some kind of disgusting parasite with bad teeth and greasy hair having escaped from its cage; I assume he was talking about you."

There was a pause. "I think she thinks that was funny," Pansy said to someone else. Presumably Millicent.

Rose decided she wouldn't respond to that. She simply yawned and turned her head to the side, showing that she was finished with their conversation and just wanted some sleep.

"I'm not bothered," Pansy continued. "At least I don't have a guy _pretending_ to be in love with me."

"No. There's no one out there that could even stomach pretending, it seems," Rose retorted.

Pansy huffed. "You're not fooling anyone, Martell."

Rose made a funny noise in her throat that was probably meant to sound like scoff. Out of no where, someone's hand began running down the length of her undoubtedly messy hair. She looked up to see Draco sitting on the arm of the chair, stroking the tangled mess. She didn't understand this gesture at first, then looked over to see Pansy watching them with a deathly glare, and knew Draco was playing it up for her benefit. The gentle petting lulled her to sleep, and she took a much needed nap.

Draco shook her awake less than an hour later, urging her to go to class. She swatted his hand away, so he hauled her to her feet and began carrying her to the Potions classroom. She put up a fuss, and he let her down eventually. They were in the middle of a corridor; people were eyeing them questioningly. She hit Draco across the chest in annoyance. He laughed at her.

"By the way, thanks for earlier," Rose said, taking her school bag from him.

"Earlier?"

"Yeah, for covering for me with Pansy."

"Oh," he remembered, "Don't mention it."

She shrugged. "Thanks anyway."

"You know what I don't understand?" he asked as they made their way toward Potions.

"Hmm?"

"Why is it such a big deal? So what if she doesn't think we're getting married out of love or whatever else? I mean, does it make that much of a difference? It doesn't make our contract any less binding."

"No, but if she thought that we were faking it to piss her off, she might be inclined to set fire to me in my sleep. As opposed to if she thought I just stole you from her the old-fashioned way. Then she might set fire to me while I'm awake and I might be able to put out the flames before I died."

"Ah, that makes sense," he said jokingly, rolling his eyes. "I think the worst part is that I know you're right. To an extent, anyway."

"She's a psycho," Rose concluded.

"I concur."

They took their seats in the Potions room, and waited for Slughorn to begin the lesson. Daphne was already sitting in her seat next to Rose. She opened her mouth to ask something when Slughorn appeared through the doorway, carrying a pile of books which he dumped carelessly on his desk before turning to his students with a wide smile.

"Good morning, students," he beamed, and began the lesson.

Rose barely paid attention, leaving all of the work to Daphne, who didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Rose rarely did much except stir the cauldron. Daphne never complained, as Rose had a tendency to ruin everything she touched in that class. So today was not much different than any other day, in her opinion, which left Rose free to slack off and think. She found that no matter how much she tried to think of one specific thing – or person, really – her mind kept getting distracted and drifting into blankness. She saw Daphne's hand waving in front of her face, and realized she had zoned out again.

"Alive in there, mate?" she asked. Rose nodded. "You alright?"

"Fine," Rose said off-handedly, peering into the cauldron, and wrinkling her nose against the smell.

"When you've finished your potion, please take a vial from my desk, and fill it with your brew," Slughorn announced.

Daphne asked Rose to fetch a vial while she watched the potion. Rose stood with an exhausted sigh and trudged to the front desk. She was met by Draco, who only gave her a look before grabbing a vial and retreating to his seat. She didn't understand what that meant, but didn't think it mattered. He was probably making fun of her again.

After what seemed like forever, Potions drew to a close, and Rose packed up her books to leave.

"Can you drop my stuff off for me?" Rose asked Daphne, looking briefly in Draco's direction. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

Daphen sighed. "Sure," she said, leaving the room without another word.

Rose approached Draco, and tapped on his hand for his attention. "Can we go somewhere?" she whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, sure." He put his arm around her waist, and led her out of the room.

The suddent proximity shocked Rose, and she walked forward slowly, looking up at Draco to try and understand his motives. He tightened his hold on her and pushed her along, urging her to go faster. She complied. They walked until they found a classroom door. Draco flicked his wand, unlocking it, and led them both inside. She sat on a desk, and watched him curiously as he shut the door.

"What?" he asked, catching her staring at him.

"Nothing."

"So what are we doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Fine," she replied.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his brow creasing.

"Yep."

"So why are we here?" he asked again.

She shrugged. "I don't know. You brought us here."

"Because you said you wanted to go somewhere."

"I didn't mean a locked classroom in the dungeons." Rose grinned stupidly. She wondered if she looked as ridiculous as she felt.

"Do you want to...go somewhere else, then?" he tried. Rose shrugged. "I don't understand you, Martell."

"You don't call me Roselyn anymore," she mused aloud.

"I rarely ever did."

"You used to. In front of your friends, you always called me Roselyn. You seem different somehow."

"Do I?" he asked, shifting to lean against the wall. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Nervous?" she smirked.

"About what?"

"You seem nervous." She made a motion of running her hand through her hair. He glared. She smirked some more. "So what's going on with you?"

"Nothing." He shook his head.

Rose stood and walked toward him. He straightened up. She stood directly in front of him, and looked him right in the eye. He didn't move. She placed her hand on his chest, and stood on her toes to make their faces level. He still didn't move. Rose reached her arm around his waist. She heard his breath catch. She twisted the doorknob behind his back and whispered, "You're in the way of the door."

Almost insantly, his face contorted into a sneer as he stepped aside. Rose laughed, and made to exit the room. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back with enough force to make her stumble and trip backward right into him. He turned her around, slammed the door shut, pushed her against it, and crashed his lips to hers. Somehow, no matter how many times she had imagined this – which wasn't that many, admittedly – she wasn't prepared for it.

The kiss was rough. He was angry with her for pulling a stunt like that and was intent on proving to her that he still held dominance. He wanted her to know that he still had control of the situation, and of his feelings. But Rose knew he didn't. He was a wreck, and she was just one more complication. With this knowledge, she kissed him back just as fiercely. She gripped his hair in her fists, and pushed him to her. He grabbed her hips and pulled himself closer to her, crushing her against the door.

They began battling. And they were desperate. Oh how they were desperate. All the fighting, and the arguing, and the laughter had brought them to this point, and they wanted it more than anything. It was always there, Rose thought. Somewhere amongst their countless nights together in the Room, this tension had built up. And now they were finally releasing it. She had dreamed that this would happen in the Room for the first time, right up against the Cabinet, rather than this classroom door. It would have been more poetic, she thought. But at that point, it didn't seem to matter. She couldn't have care less where they were at that particular moment, except that they were together in the most literal way – well, _almost_ the most literal.

It felt as though an eternity had passed, though, realistically, it was probably just a few minutes, – she found this time-lapse phenomenon happened a lot when there were more important things on one's mind – when Draco finally pulled away. They stood panting for severl seconds before either of them had the energy to say anything. Draco braced himself against the door by putting a hand on either side of Rose's head. She leaned back, and looked up at his face.

"Well then," Rose stated.

"Well then," Draco repeated.

They stood for another few seconds, not sure what else to say. Rose wished she had a witty response or a joke. She was almost certain Draco would have had one. But neither of them said a word. They stood looking at each other, breathing heavily. Finally, Rose smirked.

"I win," she announced.

He looked at her in puzzlement. "What?"

"You broke first," she clarified.

He laughed at this. A real, genuine laugh. "It seems I did. But I will deny it to the ends of the Earth."

"If you want," she nodded, "But I thought it was sexy."

He smirked, raising his eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "Definitely."

In response, he kissed her again. "Like that?"

"Something like that, yeah."

**. . .**

"There you two are!" Daphne called, standing up from the Slytherin table. Rose and Draco shot a look at each other. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, you know," Rose replied noncomittally, taking a seat that Daphne had left open. Draco squeezed himself in beside her. They were extremely close. So close, in fact, that Draco wrapped his leg around hers beneath the table. Her stomach flipped. Daphne eyed them suspiciously, but Rose ignored her. She'd share the news with her friend later. For now, she wanted to bask in the moment. Even Pansy, who was glaring at them from six people down the table, couldn't ruin her mood now.

Rose ate her lunch merrily, very aware of Draco's leg still locked with hers. Daphne probably suspected that something was amiss, but didn't raise a question. Even Draco, who, aside from the bizarre scene that morning, was always quiet and brooding, seemed happy. All was well in the land of Hogwarts, Rose thought dumbly. And just to add to the cliches that would undoubtedly ruin everything, she also thought, _Nothing could possibly go wrong_.

**. . .**

"Something's gone horribly, horribly wrong, Rose," Draco announced, looking up from an unfolded sheet of parchment.

"What?" Rose snapped her head up. "What d'you mean?"

"You're not going to like this."

* * *

**A/N: **Ooooh, I wonder what THAT means. Review, and maybe you'll find out! #threats


	12. Down to Earth

**Shades of Grey  
**12. Down to Earth

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**Disclaimer:** You know.  
**Author's Note:** So as a way of telling you I'm sorry for leading you on to think that I'll be updating more frequently and then going silent for weeks, this chapter is pretty long and very kickass. ENJOY.

* * *

Christopher Martell pulled his hood up to guard against the drizzle of rain coming from the night sky. He stepped carefully on the gravel path, trying his best not to slip in the water. Occasionally there would come the sound of a peacock in the bushes, and he hurried on toward the front door. He had an envelope clutched in his grip, beneath the safety of his cloak. There was only a dim flicker of light visible through the front window of Malfoy Manor. Under the shield of the awning, Christopher pulled the envelope out from underneath his clothes, and adjusted himself before knocking on the door. It took a couple of minutes for the door to open and reveal Narcissa, her eyes red and watery, a cut across her cheek.

"Christopher," she breathed, as though in relief.

"Is something wrong?" he asked cautiously, looking at her injury. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, please come in," she urged.

Christopher stepped over the threshold into Malfoy Manor. He remembered it being different. Something about the place was suddenly darker. The paintings on the walls gave off a horrid feeling of death, and the echo of his shoes against the floor cut lashes against his skin. He shivered. Suddenly, he noticed Narcissa's eyes staring at him pointedly. He couldn't understand the meaning of this look, so he simply held the envelope out in front of him. But before he could say anything about it, Narcissa spoke.

"Won't you join us in the drawing room?" she offered. _Us?_ Christopher thought. He followed her to the adjoining room, his shoes clicking on the hard floor. "Have a seat."

Upon entering the drawing room, he understood why Narcissa was in a state. For standing next to the stone fireplace was the one man who made even Christopher's gut grow cold. He quickly fell into a bow, and muttered, "My Lord."

"Martell," hissed the Dark Lord's cold, high voice. "Good of you to join us. We were just speaking about you actually."

"About m-me, My Lord?"

"What's that in your hand?" he asked, not answering the question. He sounded completely uninterested, looking at the burning cinders of the fireplace.

"A package for Narcissa, My Lord," he replied, looking over at the woman in question, who was standing awkwardly to the side, her head bowed.

"Then give it to her," he demanded as though annoyed he hadn't done so already.

"Yes, My Lord," Christopher nodded, and handed the envelope to Narcissa, who reached out a shaking hand to take it. She was about to set it down on a table when the Dark Lord interrupted.

"Well? Open it."

Narcissa hesitated, but with an urging nod from Christopher, tore open the flap which made a very loud noise in the silence. She took out the stack of parchment, read the title of the first page, nodded, and moved to replace them in the envelope.

"Well," spoke the Dark Lord in a bored tone, "what is it?"

"My Lord," Narcissa spoke, "it's really of no importance."

"On the contrary," he hissed coolly, "it is of great importance. Any business of yours is of concern to me, Narcissa."

Christopher suspected that the Dark Lord already knew the contents of the envelope, but he couldn't quite figure out the reason for his inquiry. He watched as Narcissa handed the parchment to the Dark Lord, who read them over with a smirk spreading across his thin lips. Christopher wondered what the Dark Lord could possibly find so amusing in the marriage contract in his hand. For that's what it was —Rose and Draco's marriage contract. As the bride's father, there were agreements to be signed and forms to be filled out, which is why he had it in his possession. Now he was handing it over to Narcissa for her to fill out the required portion as the groom's parent. Upon coming to Malfoy Manor, he only intended to drop off the contract, perhaps have a cup of tea as well. Instead, he finds himself standing in the Malfoy's drawing room as the Dark Lord himself read over said contract with curiosity. As Christopher continued to contemplate why the Dark Lord would take such an interest in it, everything fell into place. The realization dawned on him right as the Dark Lord opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, it's nice to see that daughter of yours doing something useful for once. I've actually been eyeing her for some time now, though I didn't expect to her to come so soon. There's a lot of anger in that one. She's smart, powerful. A great asset."

"With all due respect, My Lord, the girl is useless. She won't be worth it. She'll be a waste—an embarrassment."

"She'll be a hell of a lot more valuable than her pansy husband," he replied, shooting a glance at Narcissa, who clenched her jaw.

"I must encourage you to rethink your decision, My Lord—"

"I do not make exceptions," he growled, throwing the parchment down on the floor at his feet. "Are you questioning me, Christopher?"

"No, My Lord. Do as you please, My Lord. My apologies, My Lord."

He sniffed. "Good. I expect a proper introduction to the future Mrs. Malfoy." He said this with a wrinkle of his nose. "Narcissa, we will continue our discussion another day."

"Very well, My Lord," she replied stiffly.

Without a last word, he swept from the room, and the door banged shut behind him. Christopher turned on Narcissa, ready to give her a piece of his mind, but as he opened his mouth to speak, she burst into tears. Christopher's brow crinkled as he walked over and laid a hand on her back. She continue to sob uncontrollably for several minutes. Christopher took her to the couch and enveloped her in his arms as she sobbed for her son's safety. Christopher failed to feel a pang of pain in his chest for his daughter.

**. . .**

"There is absolutely nothing better than Saturday morning breakfast. There are no classes, the food is better, and it's after 10!" Rose exclaimed, stacking her plate high with pancakes. "This is the life."

"What about Sunday morning?" Daphne volunteered.

Rose shrugged. "Not as good."

"Martell, pass the syrup," Draco asked, setting a pile of pancakes on his own plate.

"Get your own."

"Fine," he replied, and reached all the way across her plate with his right hand as his left settled on her lower back for balance. A shiver ran through her. "You're just no help."

"It's Saturday. I don't help, assist, or exert energy," she clarified.

"Uhm-hmm," he muttered, pouring maple syrup all over his pancakes. Rose grabbed the saucer from him and poured a large puddle of it on the side of her own plate. As she cut a pancake in half and dipped it in the gooey substance, she felt a hand on her thigh. She looked up suddenly at Draco, who sat completely at ease, eating a soaking pancake from his plate. His hand ran up and down her thigh, slowly inching closer to her waistband.

"Oh look! Mail!" Rose shouted suddenly, jumping a little. Draco retracted his hand. She dipped her head down to cover the blush that was creeping across her cheeks. She was so absorbed in avoiding anyone's gaze that she didn't notice the owl that landed in front of her. After another minute, Draco spoke up.

"Something's gone horribly, horribly wrong, Rose."

She looked up at him. "What d'you mean?"

"You're not going to like this," he replied solemnly.

"What are you on about?" she demanded. He didn't answer. "Draco?"

Daphne looked at them curiously. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to peer at the letter.

"Rose, we need to talk," Draco said brusquely. "Now."

Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and began pulling her out of the Great Hall. They had only gotten as far as the Entrance Hall when she pulled herself from his grasp and ordered him to explain himself. He looked hesitantly at the closed door to the room where the entire school was opening their mail and finishing up their breakfast. He then handed the parchment to her with a shaky hand. When she had it in her grasp, he took a step back as though she might explode and he wanted to be out of range. Rose gave him an odd look before looking down at her letter. She read it several times, trying to make sense of the words.

"I don't get it," she announced finally.

"Rose, it means—"

"I don't get it," she repeated, growing angry. "How!"

"It—it's always been like that, Rose. I just—I never really realized. It never occurred to me—"

"It never _occurred_ to you?" she shouted.

"Rose, please don't yell—"

"I'll yell as much as I damn well please!" she said hysterically. "No! No, no, no, no, no, NO!"

He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder but she shoved him away. "You! You _knew this_? How could you? I'm dead! Do you understand that? I am as good as _dead_ now! And _you_ killed me! You!"

He stepped toward her, ignoring her attempt to push him away. "Rose, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, taking her hands. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," she spat, throwing his hands down. "This is just what you wanted. Now you can have it all."

"How can you say that?" he said. "I wouldn't wish this even on you."

She ignored the jab. "Well, like it or not, I don't have a choice anymore, do I? God, I swore to myself I would never marry one of you. Ever. And now I will. And look where it's gotten me. I should have fucking _known_."

Draco didn't say anything. He just looked on, his eyebrow creased in worry. She looked like she wanted to cry, but she didn't. Instead, she gritted her teeth, crumpling the letter as she clenched her hands into fists. After a while she spoke, her teeth still stuck together.

"I'll kill him. I'll kill all of you if that's what I have to do. This," she held up the wrinkled parchment, "will never come to pass. _Ever_."

"You can't escape from this, Rose. The Dark Lord—when He wants something…you can't escape from that."

"Watch me," she snapped.

Draco wanted to say more, but was interrupted by the doors to the Great Hall bursting open. Hoards of students began to spill out. Rose stood her ground, not moving aside. Draco stayed with her. People gave them strange looks as they passed. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs walked past with Slytherin house lumbered out lazily behind. And who should happen to come across them than the one person Rose was least anxious to see, now more than ever.

"Have you finally done it, Draco?" came Pansy Parkinson's grating voice. "Have you finally broken her delusion and told her you're not interested?"

"Sod off, Pansy," he replied in a low voice.

"I wouldn't want to spoil the moment—you look like you're at the part where you're going to cry, Martell. I think I'll just sit back and enjoy the show."

"Parkinson," Rose said, looking up at her from under her eyelashes. "If you have any concern for your own health, you will leave. Right now."

Pansy guffawed. "You hear that girls? She's threatening me."

Rose looked up at Pansy, who was surrounded by her usual gang of Slytherin girls. Millicent and two fourth-years whose names Rose couldn't remember. Rose suspected the look on her face would be enough to stab Pansy to death, but the pug-faced idiot didn't even blink.

"Let's face it, Martell. Draco will never love you the way he loves me. No one loves you, Martell. Not even your own parents."

Rose didn't even think enough to take her wand out of her robe pocket as she barreled the few feet across the Entrance Hall to Pansy. She was still laughing as Rose's fist collided with her face, causing a loud cracking sound in her jaw. Rose swung her arm back to hit her again, when a hand caught her wrist. She looked to see Draco's pale fingers enclosed around her.

"Don't," Draco whispered in her ear. "Teachers are coming."

Sure enough, several professors were emerging after the students from the Great Hall. Their eyes swept the crowd, looking for anyone causing trouble.

"This isn't over, Parkinson," Rose growled, and stalked away with Draco following closely behind.

Neither of them spoke until they had reached the dungeons. They turned a different way from the flow of students heading to the common room. Rose slid to the floor, and buried her face in her hands.

"So the good news is, I think you broke Pansy's jaw," Draco announced.

Rose almost let out a chuckle. "Yeah, fucking cow. She deserved it."

"And more," he added.

"And more," she agreed.

"But you know, beating the stuffing out of Pansy won't change what's happening here."

"No kidding," she retorted. "So then what will?"

"Nothing."

Rose nodded, and looked up at Draco. He raised the corner of his mouth in a smile. She didn't grin back. He crouched beside her, took her face in his hands, and whispered, "I know a great way to cheer you up."

As much as Rose wanted to kick and scream, as much as she wanted to hex Draco into oblivion, she didn't resist him. On the contrary, she immersed herself in the kiss with so much aggression, Draco had to be the one to pull away to take a breath. She wouldn't let him go. She gripped the back of his head, desperately pushing his lips closer to hers. After several minutes of this, Draco disengaged himself from her grasp; she growled in frustration.

"If you want to take all of your anger out on me sexually, be my guest," Draco smirked, "but I still have a job to do. Would you like to accompany me?"

"No," she replied. "I want nothing to do with it."

"You sure about that?" he asked, kissing her again. "How about now?"

She chuckled. "You're something else, Malfoy," she said, shaking her head, as she stood up to follow him to the Hidden Room.

**. . .**

While Draco worked on the Cabinet, Rose explored the depth of the Room. She wandered through the towers of stuff stacked all around. She even got lost a couple of times, and Draco had to come find her. But it was a good way to pass the time, and before she knew it, they were headed to dinner. Rose wondered how everyone could possibly be so oblivious to what was going on right under their own noses. It didn't make any sense to her how the entire student body could be sitting around chatting when her life as she knew it was coming to an end.

"Rose, are you going to eat something?" Draco asked, nudging her side.

"What?" she said, snapping out of her daze. "Oh, yeah. Food. Definitely."

He stared for a moment. "Rose, _eat_."

"Right," she nodded, taking a piece of chicken and setting it on her plate, but not eating it.

Draco sighed. "Daphne, I'm going to take her to the common room. Bring her some food or something later, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Daphne replied, looking at them skeptically.

Draco half-carried Rose from the Great Hall. It took them a while to get to the common room, and a while longer to convince the fifth years on the couch to move out of the way. But, finally, Draco set Rose down. He looked at her and groaned in frustration. She looked up quizzically.

"You're so bloody irritating," he said.

"I bet your pardon?"

"You heard me. You're irritating. I know this is difficult for you or whatever, but going catatonic at dinner isn't going to help, Roselyn. It's going to make it worse. You like your friends, hmm? Your friend Daphne? Remember her? Like her? Yeah, she gives a shit about you. She's worried sick, if you haven't noticed, but she has no fucking clue what to do, because you don't talk to her anymore. Did you tell her what happened? No. You've said nothing. _Your best friend_, and you didn't have the decency to tell her that your parents have signed you off to become a—"

"Draco!"

"Whatever. The point is, you need to stop thinking about yourself. Get your head out of your own ass, and notice that the Universe does not revolve around you and your problems, Rose. No one is going to stop and give a shit about you—except for Daphne. And you treat her as if she's not even there."

"Why are you lecturing me? Why do you care?" she asked angrily.

"Because unfortunately for me, I have to spend the rest of my miserable existence putting up with you, so I figured I'll start early in dealing with your problems, and putting you in your place."

Rose scoffed. "My place?"

"Yeah, your place. The one that's not 50 kilometers above everyone else. The place that's right down here on Earth with the rest of us. It's not all about you, Rose. Everyone has their own problems. So get the fuck over it."

She stared at him in bewilderment, not knowing how to respond. He waited two seconds before walking away from her. She was dimly aware of people watching, but didn't care. She stood up and ran after him, but the dungeon corridor was empty. She sprinted all the way up to the Room, but she didn't know to get into it without him, so she sat against the wall in front of it, hoping he would come out. But after two hours, he didn't, and she went back to her dormitory where she slunk into bed for the night, her energy drained completely.

"Rosie?" Daphne's voice came dimly from her right. She lifted her head up to see Daphne sitting on her own bed, looking at her.

"Yeah?" Rose managed.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No, Daph, I'm not okay," Rose replied. Daphne nodded in understanding, and they both went to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Owned.

* * *

**A/N:**

**A/N:**


	13. Lost

**Shades of Grey  
**13. Lost

* * *

The following morning, Daphne wasn't in her four-poster. Rose rolled out of bed with a sigh, threw some clothes on without noticing what they were, and lumbered down to the common room. As she emerged, she immediately came face-to-face with Pansy Parkinson. Rose groaned.

"Not now, Parkinson."

"You. Broke. My. Jaw," she growled.

"Your face needed some alterations. You should be glad I'm not charging for my services."

Rose cleanly ducked the fist that flew her way. She caught Pansy by the throat and held her at arm's length. Pansy gasped and gripped Rose's wrist, trying to get free, to no avail. Anger flashed in Rose's eyes.

"Listen to me very carefully, Parkinson," she said in a low voice, "I can kill you where you stand. Keep pissing me off, and a broken jaw will be the _least_ of your problems, got it?"

In response, Pansy spit in her face. Rose threw her down to the ground with a roar and pulled out her wand. There was a large audience around them now, but no one did a thing to stop it. Everyone loved a good fight, and this one had been a long time coming.

"What the _devil_ is going on here?" came the familiar drawl of Professor Snape. Rose didn't move.

"Martell, my office," he ordered.

It wasn't until Snape dragged her away that Rose finally took her eyes off of Pansy. The second her back was turned, a painful shock ran through her body and everything went black.

She came to on the common room couch, the fire emitting warmth somewhere near her. She opened her eyes to see Daphne standing over her. She looked so concerned that a feeling of guilt swept over Rose. Maybe Draco was right. Daphne smiled when she saw that Rose was conscious.

"What _happened_?" Rose asked.

"The bitch stupefied you when you turned your back," Daphne explained.

"Coward," muttered Rose.

She sat up slowly, her head spinning for a second before she felt okay enough to stand. She dusted herself off and looked around at the people staring at her.

"Show's over," she snapped. Everyone reluctantly turned away. "Where's Parkinson?"

"In Snape's office. She's in serious trouble. She'll be in detention for a while, I can assure you."

"Good," she said, then her eyes widened. "Am _I_ in trouble?"

"Probably, but he's a bit preoccupied, so I wager you have enough time to make up a story."

"Well, there's that."

Suddenly, Draco burst in through the common room entrance, looking as tired as ever, Crabbe and Goyle behind him. He crossed the room in a few long strides, and looked Rose up and down, assessing for damage. When he saw that there was no visible bruising, he took a step back and narrowed his eyes.

"I told you so," he gloated. "I bloody told you."

Rose rolled her eyes and shoved past him. Daphne followed. Draco stood where he was, a smirk on his face.

**. . .**

After breakfast, Rose was called to Snape's office. He looked frustrated after having dealt with Pansy. He motioned for her to take a seat across from his desk. She did as she was told, and waited for him to begin.

"Well? What's your story?" Snape asked finally.

"She swung a punch at me," Rose said.

He pretended to crane his neck in inspection. "I don't see any bruises."

"She missed," replied Rose rather smugly.

Snape nodded. "A week's detention. I'll see you tomorrow at dinner."

"Professor!" she protested. "That's not fair! What's Parkinson getting?"

"The same as you," he replied.

"She _hexed_ me! I am the _victim _here, sir."

"Five days, then. Now go away; I have papers to grade."

Rose made a face and stood to leave. She turned back at the last moment. "I suppose you've heard the news."

Snape looked up at her tone. "What news?"

"Because I'm marrying Draco...I'm going to be one of you lot. A" –she winced—"Death Eater."

Rose left without waiting for a reaction. As she left the office in a rage, she considered going up to see Draco. She knew he would be in the Hidden Room, but was hesitant as to whether seeing him now was a wise idea or not. But even as she was still contemplating the thought in her mind, she found her feet were already on their way up the stairs. She stopped. What could he do? If anything, he'd make this worse. He didn't show it, but Rose suspected he was head-over-heels excited about this new development. For a start, she couldn't berate him for what he was anymore, because she will be one, too. But how could he be pleased about putting her life in danger this way? She snorted. What made her think he cared at all? Something was very wrong here. Where were these thoughts coming from? Not too long ago, thoughts of her and Draco wouldn't have even crossed her mind, and now she was hoping that he cared about her? Nothing had changed to warrant these feelings; unless that kiss they shared two days ago counted, which she was afraid it didn't. Somewhere deep down she really wished it did. She wished that it changed everything between them; it would make everything so much easier for her. She would know where she stood. But for now she was stuck in this large expanse of grey area about their relationship.

One thing was definitely for certain: a lot will change now. A Death Eater. That is what she will become. And why? Because she was marrying one of them. She tried to think back before the Christmas holidays. If someone had told her then that this would happen, she would have personally paid for a trip to St. Mungo's for them. And yet, she had to wonder, was this really so unlikely? Not really. She wouldn't have in a million years believed anyone that predicted this, but that didn't mean that it was as impossible as she believed. After all, there was a one in five chance (though, considering Crabbe and Goyle, it was more of a one in three) of ending up with Draco. As for Draco being a Death Eater, she would be lying if she didn't say it's the exact thing she predicted he would become. It's just the last part of the equation that threw her off. Rose Martell – Death Eater. Even in her mind it sounded stupid. It had the same ridiculous ring to it as "Hermione Granger – Pureblood" or "Luna Lovegood – Sane." It was something that went against nature. Clearly, the apocalypse was upon them.

Okay, she was exaggerating. Maybe this wasn't so far-fetched. After all, look at her family: Death Eaters, the lot of them. It was only a matter of time before she got dragged down with them. This is what they wanted more than anything, for Rose to be "useful." Roselyn, the extra kid that no one wanted in the first place. She knew they would inevitably find some way to make having her worth their while, and her being a Death Eater was it.

She sighed. Yeah, this was completely typical.

Rose turned on her heel and headed back to the dungeons, away from Draco and the Hidden Room.

"There you are!" shouted Daphne the moment Rose stepped foot through the door. "What happened?"

"He gave me detention," Rose murmured, heading toward the dormitory.

"That's rubbish; you didn't do anything!"

Rose shrugged. "I tried telling him that. But I'm still facing five days."

"Bullocks," Daphne muttered, shaking her head.

"Daph, I'm going to go take a bath, alright?" she said absently, and left.

**. . .**

The remainder of the day was impossibly boring. She took as long a time in her bath as she could manage. When she immerged from the water, her hands and feet looked like those of a mandrake. She played with the ridges on her skin for a while until they began to fade. Once she ran out of ways to waste time, she got dressed and went out to the common room. It was filled to the brim with Slytherins. She groaned in annoyance and was about to leave when Daphne called her over. She sat beside her best friend and endured hours of meaningless fun. The whole time, a part of her wished Draco would surface, but he never did. When dinner rolled around, and he still never showed up, Rose began growing impatient. He always managed to come out at least during meal times, but he had been up there all day since morning. That night after everyone had gone to sleep, she sat in the common room, waiting for him. She dozed off somewhere around midnight, and was woken by a violent shaking. Rose opened her eyes to see a familiar face...but not the one she was hoping to see.

"What are you doing here, Blaise?" she groaned, rubbing her eyes and sitting up.

"I could be asking you the same thing," he replied, sitting next to her. "Though I suspect you were just waiting for me."

"Why in Merlin's name would I be doing that?"

"Well how should I know? You're the one doing it."

She groaned again. "Go away, Blaise."

In response, he put his arm around her. "So, I've been wondering something, Rose," he purred in her ear, letting out an unnecessarily large gust of breath when he said her name. "Have you been thinking about our kiss after that Christmas party as much as I have?"

She tried to push him away but was too tired to manage much, and he held on tighter. "What are you trying to do here, Blaise? Piss me off so I'll hex you unconscious?"

"I'm not hearing a denial," he chuckled, and lowered his lips steadily as he did so, not bothering to notice Rose's look of revulsion.

Rose was about to make a retort, when a very strong force pushed them apart to opposite ends of the sofa. She looked over her shoulder at Draco, standing with his wand pointed at the space where they had been sitting.

"Draco, mate!" Blaise said excitedly, not missing a beat. "Come to join the fun? I wouldn't mind sharing!"

"I would," he growled, and grabbed Rose by the wrist, leading her out of the common room, past a very confused Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't even wait for the door to close completely before demanding, "What was that?"

"What was _what_? And would you quit _doing that_?" She wrenched her wrist free of his grip.

"Are you fucking around with Blaise now?" he pressed further.

"What? No!"

"Well that's certainly what it bleeding looked like! Why else are sitting all over him in the middle of the night on the couch?"

"_First of all_," she said, jabbing his chest with her finger. "_He_ was all over _me_. And second, I was _waiting for you_."

"You were?"

"And why do you care, anyway?"

"I care because you're going to be _my_ wife, not his. You can't go around snogging any guy you bloody well like!"

"Yeah, but why do you _care_?" she repeated.

"Like I said," he replied with a smirk, "I don't like to share."

Rose raised her eyebrows, her mind racing through a million different thoughts, conclusions, and scenarios, while her stomach fell off a cliff. "I see," she said as calmly as she could.

"Good," he nodded, and turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?" she asked in a ridiculously panicked tone.

When he didn't answer, she followed him back to the common room, where Blaise was talking to Crabbe and Goyle, looking very smug indeed. Everyone looked up as Rose and Draco entered.

"Draco, there you are. I was just telling Vincent here how you were probably putting your woman in her place, eh?"

This earned him an extra-hard punch in the jaw. Rose's insides warmed with appreciation. "Try anything like that with my _woman_," he said the word with a disdainful and mocking edge, "again, and you'll have more than that bruise to worry about, got it?"

"Yeah, whatever you like," he said, rubbing the place where Draco had punched him. "I was just screwing around; no need to go mental."

Rose had half a mind to punch him as well, but restrained herself, and settled for glaring threateningly, figuring she would leave this battle to the guys.

**. . .**

"Mum? Dad?" Rose whispered, peering around the trunk of a thick tree. The humidity around her made it difficult to breath, and she felt sticky with sweat from the overwhelming heat. She could barely see past all of the trees and vines hanging in front of her, but she felt that she needed to go on. She called out for her parents again, and tripped over her wedding dress as she did. She gathered the white fabric in her fists, and pushed forward through the thick jungle.

"Rose," she heard from somewhere far away. Immediately changing her course, she ran towards the voice, scraping her bare feet as she did. Sweat matted her curls to her face and neck, but she ignored them, still running. "Rose," called the voice again. It sounded closer, but the trees obscured its speaker.

Finally, she stumbled, and fell into the arms of Draco, dressed in a red tuxedo. He lifted her to her feet and whispered, "Come or we'll be late."

"Late to what?" Rose inquired.

He smiled knowingly and led her further into the thicket. They held hands, Draco seeming to glide easily over the undergrowth while Rose stumbled alongside. She asked repeatedly where they were going, but he continued to walk. Then, suddenly, he turned to her, anger flashing in his eyes.

She started. "Sorry, just, where are we going?"

"Don't you know?" he replied calmly, though his face looked anything but calm. His eyes grew wide, and began glowing green, until soon, the green light consumed his entire body. It enveloped her, and sent a shooting pain up her arm, which extended to every other inch of her. Rose collapsed to the jungle floor, and awoke with a start, nearly toppling out of bed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** 10 House points to anyone who finds the reference!


	14. Affairs

**Shades of Grey**  
14. Affairs

* * *

Detention with Snape proved to be worse than she would have thought. It was made so by Pansy, who tried to be as difficult as possible. Whenever Snape wasn't looking or was out of the room, she would mutter snide remarks or try to tip Rose's ink bottle over unto her parchment. She never let this get to her, and by the end of the third night, Rose had done more homework in detention than in her entire Hogwarts career—and ground her teeth so hard she suspected they were an inch shorter. As she tried to avoid being tripped on her way out of Snape's office on Wednesday, she saw Draco standing by the door, leaning casually against the wall.

"Draco!" screeched Pansy cheerfully. "You came to see me!"

"Thought you might fancy a stroll," he said, looking Rose in the eye, paying no attention Pansy.

"Oh, baby, I'd love to!" she squealed again.

"Why not," Rose replied, taking the arm he offered, and leaving Pansy fuming.

"This is strangely kind of you," she remarked once they were out of the dungeons.

"I was bored," he admitted. "Plus I couldn't pass up the opportunity to fuck with Pansy."

"I don't understand why you dated her if you hate her so much."

"I don't hate her!" he said defensively. "She's actually not so bad. At least she wasn't with me. Yeah, she's pretty unbearable now, and she was really irritating a lot of the time then, but I didn't hate her. Plus, she's a bunny in the sack."

She smacked his arm. "Very classy," she commented sarcastically. "But you know, being in a relationship is more than just tolerating someone. You had other options. Me, for instance."

He didn't notice her blush. "Nah, you never would have dated me. I would have been your Pansy."

She laughed. "No, you are nothing like her."

"I just mean that you would only have been 'tolerating' me, to quote you."

"That's not what's happening now. I quite enjoy your company."

"We're not dating," he said seriously.

"Aren't we?" He shook his head. She added, "Should we?"

He seemed to think about this a minute.

"If you want, yeah," he said finally. Rose grinned.

**. . .**

"Are you coming tonight?" Draco suddenly whispered in Rose's ear.

"Are you kidding? Of course I am," she murmured back, looking over to see if Daphne had heard the exchange.

But Daphne was busy flipping manically through her Transfiguration textbook. She had been trying in vain to write her essay all night, with absolutely no success. Rose found it all rather amusing, having already written the essay herself in detention. It wasn't very often she was the one that had her homework done. She also found that essays weren't as hard as everyone made them out to be. It's basically just copying things from the textbook and mixing the words around to make them sound different. Not a big deal.

"I hate McGonagall," Daphne proclaimed finally. She looked down at her watch. "Time for bed. I'm going to fail this class."

"There is a very strong possibility that you will," Rose nodded.

"Hilarious, Rosie. Coming up with me?"

"No, you go on. I'll hang out here some more."

Daphne looked around at Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise, seeming to find this a strange thing to want to do. "Right-o. 'Night!"

"'Night," Rose replied. She felt a hand on her thigh and shot Draco a scathing look. He shrugged, then clapped his hands together.

"Crabbe, Goyle, you look tired," he said pointedly. They shook their heads. "No, really, you look exhausted. Why don't you go up to bed?"

"We're fine, Draco," Crabbe answered, not understanding.

"Just go," Draco said through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes. They shrugged and disappeared to the dormitories. "They are perhaps the dumbest people on the planet."

Rose laughed. Blaise sat staring at them curiously, but not saying a word. Things had become a little awkward between them since the punching incident. Though Blaise shrugged it off as he usually shrugs everything off, he did seem a little more afraid of Draco than normal. He made a noise in his throat, and picked up a magazine.

"Maybe we shouldn't go tonight, Rose whispered. "Take a night off."

"Rose, you know I can't do that," he replied, his breath tickling her ear. He ran his hand up and down her thigh again.

"You need a proper night's rest," she insisted.

"I'm fine, believe me. Sleep is really unimportant in comparison."

"Please?"

"You seem awfully eager to avoid going up there. Afraid to be alone with me?" he muttered, placing a light kiss on her neck.

She squirmed. "No, just think we should get some sleep."

"Make you a deal," he whispered, his lips so close, she could feel them brush her earlobe. "Sleep with me, and we won't go."

She laughed audibly. Blaise looked up from his magazine, his eyes resting on Draco's hand, which still lay on Rose's leg, his other arm draped around the back of the couch behind her head. Draco shot him a look, and he turned his attention back to the article.

"Okay fine, we'll go, but tomorrow we rest."

"What? No, I don't want to go now. I'd much rather go to sleep," he smirked.

"But only if I come along?" she asked. He nodded. "Not gonna happen."

"Oh no?" he said, putting his mouth to hers.

She turned into pudding faster than if she had been Transfigured. The hand on her leg pulled her close, and she found herself practically on his lap. All too soon, they heard someone clear their throat from behind them. They broke away to see Blaise staring at them.

"Can we help you?" Draco asked in exasperation.

"Get a room?" Blaise suggested.

"Go to hell?" Draco retorted. Rose stifled a giggle.

"Eat dirt, Malfoy," Blaise replied.

"Jealous?"

"Not even a little."

Rose snorted. "I bet you aren't. I bet you're not going to stay up all night wanking off to this sight, wishing it was you, either. Remember what I taste like Blaise? Remember how good it was? And now your best friend is getting it."

Rose had no idea what came over her. She was surprised to hear those words come out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop it. Something about Draco was very empowering. Being with him made her want to be like him, and she felt his energy, his anger, his attitude seep into her. She let it out on Blaise, and it felt good. As she thought this, Blaise stood up in, seething, and retreated to the dormitory. Rose chuckled, and looked over to Draco, expecting him to be proud. Instead, he looked angry.

"What?"

"What was that?" he asked with a clenched jaw.

"What?" she repeated, not understand why he was mad at her.

He pushed her away from him. "Does he _remember_? When the fuck did you do anything with Blaise?"

"Oh! It was after Slughorn's Christmas party. It was no big deal. He just sort of caught me off guard. I didn't even want to. It was awful, actually, but I was trying to make him jealous. You're not — _you're_ not jealous, are you?"

"It just would have been nice to know."

"It's not any of your business, Draco. I don't owe it to you to tell you everything about my life."

"No, you don't. But it would have been nice to hear it from him."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.'"

"If it helps, I don't think he really even likes me that much," she shrugged. "He's just a git that wants what he can't have."

"Or what I have," Draco smirked, coming closer to her.

"Especially what you have," she murmured into his lips. They kissed for a little while again, until Draco pulled back.

"We really should be getting upstairs," he said.

Rose nodded, and they headed to the seventh floor. As much as they both would have liked to stay up there and snog all night, Draco actually did have a job to do. He worked for a few hours until they decided they should at least try to get some semblance sleep. On the way back to the common room, they stopped several times to kiss in the dark corridors, and narrowly escaped being caught twice. Rose found it all very exciting. She thought that maybe life with Draco wouldn't be as bad as she originally thought. He was fun to be around, and he made her feel different than she'd felt before. She felt strong, fearless, and maybe just a little bit like a Death Eater.

**. . .**

With the arrival of the weekend, everyone was feeling less aggravated. It was evident that the students deserved a break after the hell they endured during January, which, in Rose's opinion, was the hardest month of the year. After breakfast Saturday morning, the Slytherins decided to venture outside. They all put on their warmest cloaks, house scarves, hats, and gloves, ready to play in the snow, which had been falling all week. The grounds were covered in the silvery-white substance, just waiting to be played in.

Which is just what the students of Hogwarts did. Bundled up in their warmest clothes, they threw snowballs at each other and bewitched them to chase people around. Rose was standing in the knee-high snow, talking to Daphne about McGonagall, when a giant clump of snow hit the side of her head. She lost balance, and fell backwards, her mouth filling with snow. She sputtered, sitting up, looking for the culprit. A few paces away, Draco Malfoy was doubled over in laughter. She narrowed her eyes, pulled out her wand, charmed the snow to form several balls, and sent them all after Draco. He was hit in several places, and thrown backwards by the force. Rose laughed at him, standing in satisfaction.

"Brilliant," Daphne laughed.

"He deserved it," Rose grinned, proud of herself.

Her face suddenly fell as she saw Draco charge toward her. She squealed and turned to run. As she rounded a tree, a figure appeared from the opposite side of it, and tackled her to the ground. Draco lay atop her, grinning, both of them buried in the snow.

"Gotcha," he said smugly, kissed her lips, and ran away before she could retaliate.

Suffice to say, a war broke out between the two of them. Daphne joined in, and Draco was suddenly outnumbered. He surrendered after an hour of being pelted with snowballs, and everyone made their way into the castle for lunch. The morning outside starved them, so no one spoke much through the meal, after which they were full beyond the ability to move. They retired to the common room, and collapsed on the couches.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the common room. Draco beat Rose at Wizard's Chess four times in a row, then Draco was beat twice by Daphne, which signalled the end of chess. They all engaged in a few games of Exploding Snap, which took the better part of the afternoon. By dinnertime, they were all laughing at each others' expense. It was turning out to be a perfect day, so, naturally, it had to be ruined before it was over.

"I need to pee," Daphne laughed, clutching her side.

"Hey everyone!" Rose called loudly to the common room. "Daphne Greengrass has to pee, if you failed to hear!"

"Thanks, Rosie. I really appreciate it," she replied, sticking her tongue out, and left to the girls' lavatories.

"You two could be related, you're so alike," Draco teased.

Before she could retort, an annoying voice piped up from behind them. "Yes, you're so cute," Pansy drawled, coming toward them. "Don't think I don't know what you've been doing all day."

"Having snowball fights and playing cards?" Rose supplied.

"Funny, Martell. Bet you think I'm jealous, don't you? I'm not. You're not fooling anyone." She turned to Draco. "Baby, just tell me the truth. I know you don't love her. You don't even _like_ her. Just come back to me. Enough of these games."

"Pansy," he said in a soft voice, looking her in the eyes.

"Yes?" she said excitedly.

"You want the truth?" he purred. She nodded eagerly. "About everything?"

"Yes, Draco, please!" she cried, barely able to contain herself.

"Rose is my girlfriend—no, my _fiancé_—and _much_ better in bed than you. Your face slightly resembles a dog. I saw your mother sleeping with the bartender at Marcus' wedding. And when I 'went to bed' early at the Yule Ball because I said I had a headache, I was actually snogging a French girl behind the greenhouses. Oh, and sod off."

Pansy's face was something Rose wished she could frame and look at any time she was in a bad mood and needed a laugh. But before she could imprint it permanently in her memory, Draco kissed her. He kissed her hard, making a show of it for Pansy, who Rose knew was still standing there, probably unable to believe what she was seeing. He put his hand on the back of her head and pushed her closer to him. Rose put her hands on either side of his neck, wanting Pansy to finally get what she deserved.

"The fuck is this?" a familiar voice said in shock.

Rose pulled away as quickly as she could, and looked over Draco's shoulder. "Daphne!" she gasped, standing up.

"Were you planning to _tell me_?" she said, hurt in her voice.

"Daphne—I—I was—Daphne, no wait!" she called, but Daphne had already disappeared into the passageway leading to the dormitories. Rose heard the door slam.

Pansy still stood in the same spot, tears streaming down her face, her features contorted with rage. Blaise was sitting in his armchair, fuming. Crabbe and Goyle were looking on in shock, still processing what had just happened. And the rest of the common room was staring at the scene in disbelief.

Rose didn't know what to do. She stood quite still for a moment before tearing after Daphne. The door to the dormitory was locked. Rose took out her wand, but then decided to knock instead.

"Do not come in here, Roselyn Martell," Daphne's voice warned from the other side.

"Daph, please, I just want to explain."

The door flew open. "Explain what?" she shouted. "How you _lied_ to me? How you _kept_ _secrets_ from me?"

"Well, er, yeah," she shrugged.

The corner of Daphne's mouth twitched. "Explain away," she snapped, walking back to her bed.

Rose closed the door as she walked in, but stayed standing against it. "I'm sorry."

"You better be."

"I wasn't keeping anything from you, Daph, I swear. Everything just happened very suddenly. I just didn't get the chance, and I guess I forgot. We haven't been acting very secretive."

"I seem to recall you telling me that I would be the _first_ to know if anything happened between you and Draco. And yet I am the _ last_. The _entire house_ knows." She turned to look at her. "I felt like such an idiot in there!"

"Daph, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's a little late for that, Roselyn," she spat. "Leave."

"Daph," Rose said, her voice breaking.

"Leave!" she repeated.

Rose hesitated, then walked slowly from the room, hoping Daphne would call her back, but she didn't. The common room seemed to have gone back to normal, but the buzz of conversation felt threatening, as though everyone was talking about her. When Draco saw Rose, he stood up. She walked up to him, grabbed his robes, and pulled him in the direction of the boys' dormitory. She locked the door behind her, and levitated the nearest trunk to rest against it.

"Rose, what are you doing? Are you okay?" he asked in confusion.

"Fine," she replied shortly, removing her shoes and sweater.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, his voice heavy with worry.

"Making this worth it," she answered, and pushed Draco backwards on a bed which may or may not have been his—she didn't particularly care. She climbed atop him and kissed him hard on the lips.

**. . .**

Christopher Martell lay awake in bed, his mind reeling, refusing to settle on one thought. He stared at the dark ceiling, not quite sure how he felt at the moment. Things were getting very out of hand. First the Dark Lord orders his daughter into his ranks, and now this. What's worse is he didn't feel guilt or remorse for his actions, and certainly not worry for his daughter. He wondered if that made him a bad person. Of course it did, but he'd been a bad person for a long time now. It didn't much matter.

He looked over at the sleeping woman next to him. Her blonde hair was splayed across the pillow, tangled and matted with sweat. One of her breasts was peeking out from beneath the covers. The moonlight from the window illuminated the pale skin of it, still red in some places from his hands and mouth. Christopher watched the steady rise and fall of her breast as she breathed. After another few minutes, he was confident that she was deeply asleep, and began to rise from the bed. She stirred.

"Narcissa?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

When she didn't reply, he continued to get up from the bed. Gathering his clothes from the floor, he quietly left the room. He dressed as he descended the stairs, and walked out of the front door of Malfoy Manor. He still had a hard time understanding how the evening took such an unexpected turn. One minute he was comforting Narcissa about her endangered son and imprisoned husband, the next he was making love to her in the bedroom. What a mess. What a mess, indeed. He closed the Malfoy's gate behind him and Apparated home, hoping Claire wouldn't wonder where he'd been most of the night.


	15. Paper Lives

**Shades of Grey  
**15. Paper Lives

* * *

Draco stretched out across the bed and exhaled deeply. "That was pretty good," he concluded. Rose said nothing. "Definitely makes it worth, then, does it?" Rose still didn't reply. "Doesn't it?"

"No," she answered shortly.

"No?" he asked, aghast. "What? Are you kidding? That was _really good_ sex!"

Without saying a word in answer, she stood from the bed and began searching for her clothes. Draco leaned over and grabbed her hand, pulling her back. She tried to squirm away, but he pinned her down and looked her right in the eye.

"Rose?" he said in a worried tone. "Are you regretting this?"

"No—maybe—I don't know."

He rolled away onto his back, covering his face with his hands. "Can we just, like, _once_ in our lives have sex without you hating it after?"

"I'm sorry, Draco, but we shouldn't have. Not tonight."

"It was your idea!"

"And you let me do it?" she cried. "_Why_ would you let me do it? You knew I was feeling angry and upset! You took advantage of me almost as bad as the last time!"

"Oh you've _got_ to be joking," he scoffed, sitting up. "Now it's my fault? You're the one that dragged me in here. _You_ were on top here, love—for most of it. You could have stopped at any time."

She smirked a little at the comment. "Whatever," she replied, trying to hide her amusement, but he noticed.

"I see now. You don't think I did anything wrong at all, do you? You had a good time, and you feel _guilty_ about it, so you're looking for someone to blame." Rose shrugged. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"You don't know everything, Draco."

"This thing with Daphne is pretty shitty, but blaming me isn't going to solve anything. You wanted to have revenge sex, or whatever it was, you got it. But don't pretend you didn't love every single minute of it."

"I have to go, everyone will be coming up after dinner soon," she said, ignoring him. Draco groaned, falling on his back.

"You really want to leave it like this? You really want our first time to be _this_?"

"We've already missed the boat on our first time, Draco," she said bitterly. "You fucked that one up quite nicely."

With that final comment, she buttoned up her pants, tossed the trunk aside with a flick of her wand, and muttered "_Alohamora_" under her breath as she threw open the door, and walked out. The common room was mostly empty, though Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have returned from dinner early to wait for Draco, their arms laden with food—obviously they weren't dedicated enough to the cause to miss a meal. Rose stole a roll as she walked past, but neither of them noticed until she was well within the confines of the girls' passageway. She knocked on the dormitory door, and entered when no one answered. Daphne wasn't there anymore, though Rose didn't know why she expected her to be. With a deep sigh, she walked back to the common room. Crabbe started to protest about his stolen roll, but Rose simply grabbed another one in response.

Everything felt different. She wondered whether that had more to do with the fight with Daphne, or sleeping with Draco. He was right back in the dormitory when he said she had enjoyed every minute of it. As a matter of fact, it was phenomenal, but he was right again in thinking she felt guilty. Some part of her had hoped that she would hate it, and realize that Draco wasn't worth any fight with Daphne, but it had the opposite effect.

Being that close to him—that intimate—made her realize just how good she had it. If she thought that feeling of empowerment was strong before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. It was as though every molecule in her body was more aware of its strength. She wanted to be loud, and cruel, and obnoxious. She wanted to get into fights, and show her superiority. Because what was she if not superior? And it had taken until just now for her to realize it.

What she realized more than anything, was that she was scared. These feelings of strength and power were fake, borrowed, temporary. If she acted on them now, what would be the consequence? She couldn't let herself make any rash decisions, like the one currently circling her mind—she couldn't give in and be a Death Eater. Because once she did, there was no turning back, and everything would fall apart. She wouldn't feel empowered and strong, she would feel helpless and weak. That's what being a Death Eater did to people. She knew it better than anyone, had watched it happen countless times, and yet now a part of her yearned for it. And that part—she had to fight that part. She had to fight it with everything she had, because one momentary lapse in judgement, and she would give herself over. One single night with Draco could make her forget the consequences, and except a fate worse than death.

She opened the doors into the Great Hall, and made her way to the Slytherin table. Students were beginning to leave to their common rooms. Rose spotted Daphne sitting next to Theodore Nott who seemed to be doing his best to take advantage of Daphne's bad mood. He had his arm around her, patting her back in gentle consolation. Rose began striding toward them, but upon spotting her, Daphne stood from her seat and walked past her out of the Great Hall. Rose turned on her heel to follow. Daphne only made it as far as the bottom of the staircase leading to the dungeons before she wheeled around to face Rose.

"Why are you following me, Martell?" she spat.

"Daph, please, can we just talk?" Rose pleaded.

"Why? So you can tell me all about the sex you and Malfoy just had? Yeah, thanks, but I think if you've kept me out of the loop thus far, you might as well leave me out of it for good."

"I know, I know, it was stupid of me to do that. I just—I was upset—"

"—so you spread your legs for the first guy to your left? Wow," she paused, "I never thought I'd see the day when you became your mother."

Rose blanched. "Daphne—what—how can you—"

"Don't act so surprised, Roselyn. I wasn't sorted into this house for my good looks."

Rose let her walk away. She didn't try to stop her, or call her back. Daphne had hit way below the belt, and she knew it. What's worse is that Rose didn't disagree. Every day it seemed like she was turning more and more into her parents. It made her sick to think of it. She couldn't let her life become like theirs. She vowed a long time ago never to become the mess that they were. Their Death Eater lifestyle, corrupted marriage, and bitter outlook on everything. And the danger. The danger, she especially didn't need. The death and destruction, pain and mayhem. It was the last thing her life needed.

"Rose."

Rose snapped out of her thoughts, and looked up at Draco, two girls she didn't recognize standing behind him.

"Draco."

"Can we talk?" he asked. Rose looked over his shoulder at the girls. He motioned for them to walk away, and they obeyed.

Rose cocked an eyebrow. "Er?"

"Crabbe and Goyle," he explained unclearly. She still looked on in puzzlement. "I have them take Polyjuice Potion sometimes when we go up there. They're very conspicuous, see."

"You wanted to talk?" she continued, shaking her head.

He took her by the arm and led her away into an alcove. She didn't protest. "What are you doing?"

"Standing in an alcove in the dungeons?" she replied uncertainly.

"I mean with me," he said seriously, conveying a different meaning

"Marrying you?" she asked, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Rose, I'm serious. Tell me now whether or not you want to actually be with me. If you don't, then don't pretend you do. I might not be the most sensitive of men, but I still have feelings."

"What are you talking about, Draco?"

"Do you, or do you not, want to be with me? It's a pretty simple question."

She hesitated, not knowing the answer as surely as she did earlier that very same day. When she didn't reply fast enough, Draco's face screwed together in anger. She saw his hand rise in a strike, and flinched. Instead, he hit the wall by her head with his fist. There was a crack as several fingers broke. Blood covered his knuckles, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"What am I to you, Rose Martell? I'm not a toy. I am Draco Malfoy, and no _girl_ is going to get the better of me, do you hear? Do not try to make a fool of me. I will make you regret it," he said, his teeth clenched together on the last sentence, face just inches from hers.

"No, Draco, I'm not. I'm sorry—everything has just been so confusing. I don't know what I want anymore."

"Figure it out," he spat, pushing her against the wall, pinning her wrists at her side. "Or—"

"Or what? Don't you threaten me," she retaliated, standing on her toes to seem more intimidating. It didn't work. "You won't lay a hand on me, and you know it."

"Correction—I already have two hands on you." He squeezed her wrists in demonstration.

"Please let me go," she requested, her voice suddenly soft. "Draco, you're hurting me, please."

He paused a moment, then released his grip, taking a step back. Rose rubbed her wrists. "I'm sorry," he said finally, much to Rose's surprise.

"You are?"

"I just—I'm—"

"I know," Rose whispered, and she did. Everything that Draco was going through was bound to have taken its toll on him. His father in Azkaban, the Dark Lord threatening his life and his family's, the seconds constantly ticking closer to summer as his task still lay unfinished. She didn't blame him for his behaviour. She took his hands in hers, looked him in the eye, and repeated, "I know."

They kissed, but slowly this time. He was hurting and she was comforting him. It was a soft, gentle kiss that Rose felt Draco really needed to feel. Somewhere down the line, some part of her started caring for him, and she wanted him to feel that. It wasn't about the kissing or the sex, it wasn't about the power or the strength, it was about him. And though she would never be able to say such words out loud, she was sure he could feel it in that single, tender kiss.

"Do you want me to come with you tonight?" Rose whispered, resting her forehead against his.

"Can I go alone?" he asked. Rose nodded against him, left a final kiss on his lips, and went back to the common room.

This time, Rose recognized that feeling in herself again. It was different than usual—present, but faint. It was the kind of power that comes with knowledge, she decided. She wondered if it would give her enough strength to talk to Daphne, but as she walked into the common room, and saw her friend sitting in front of the fire, Rose decided that it could wait. Daphne just needed time to adjust, and calm down. She would forgive Rose eventually.

Rose continued on to her dormitory, dressed warmly, and went outside. The grounds were empty and dark, the snow sparkling in the moonlight, the lake covered in a thin layer of frost. She walked the perimeter of the lake for an hour or two, unable to believe that just that morning, she and Daphne were joking and playing right in the very same snow she now saw as not inviting and friendly, but cold and dreary.

Rose wondered when her thoughts became so cynical. Why did everything have to be so negative? Surely she could find at least one good thing about everything that had happened so far. And she did: Draco. As much as it surprised her, he was the closest she came to having a truly good thing. She had lost absolutely everything else. He was all she had left at the moment, and she clung to the thought desperately, as though Dementors were surrounding her by the dozen, and that was all that was keeping her sane. But it wasn't Dementors making her feel the way she did; it was reality. She really hoped the term "It has to get worse before it gets better" applied to real life, because, right now, that was her light at the end of the tunnel. She knew it couldn't get any worse than this.

She tripped, falling face-first into the snow. Spluttering, she stood, trying to scoop snow from her collar. It was melting inside her clothes, leaving her cold and wet. It was such a trivial problem compared to everything else that was on her mind that she let out a laugh in spite of herself. She pulled off her scarf, and unbuttoned her robes to let the snow fall out, wiping the water up with a gloved hand. Now thoroughly freezing, and in an ironically better mood, she walked back to the castle.

Her thoughts ran in circles, refusing to land on anything specific. The feeling of dread she had just moments before was still lingering in the back of her mind, but the snow incident scattered all of the negativity, and all she really wanted to do was go to sleep after what was probably the longest and most confusing day of her life.

The common room was half-empty, most people having gone to sleep after such a tiring day. They had nothing on Rose's exhaustion, and she wished she could live their paper lives, without a care in the world besides homework. Instead, she was anticipating signing away her life to a man that might very well kill her. Besides, she wasn't a fan of tattoos.

Daphne was already asleep, and Rose paused at her bedside, thinking that, more than anything, she wanted her best friend back. Daphne would understand. Daphne would get her through it all. But she couldn't tell Daphne a thing And Daphne wouldn't listen anyway. Rose stripped off her clothes, and climbed into bed. She had a hard time falling asleep because the stress was slowly eating away at her. She lay awake long enough to hear the rest of the girls come to bed, and a bit longer than even that. At some point without her realizing it, Rose drifted into a sleep plagued by another one of the cryptic dream she'd been having for quite some time.

She started in a forest again, wearing the same white dress she had the last time. She pushed brambles out of her way, trying in vain to find the end of the wood. Ahead, she could see the light of a clearing, and pushed forward harder to reach it. She tripped several times, tearing the fabric of her dress, and scarping her bare skin until it bled, but she _had_ to reach that light. A sinking feeling in her gut told her the forest was not friendly to her, and she was in danger as she stumbled through it. A voice called to her from within the trees.

Rose whipped her head around, recognizing the voice. It was Draco, leading her away from the edge of the forest, deeper into the darkness. She was torn, unsure of which path she wanted to take. She took a tentative step toward the voice.

"Draco, where are you?" she called.

"I'm here, Rose. Come to me."

"Draco, no, it's too dark. You're too far away," she said desperately. Just then, Draco stepped from behind a tree, his hand outstretched towards her, urging her to come closer.

"Follow me, Rose. Come with me."

"It's too dark," she continued to insist. His voice sounded very far away, even though she could see him just a few steps ahead.

He began walking backwards, into the dark. "Rose, you have to, or it'll be too late."

"What? Too late for what? Draco, come back! Don't go in there!" She was hysterical now, trying to call him back, but he continued to move deeper into the forest. She took two more steps toward him. "Please come back!" she pleaded.

"I can't go there with you, Rose," he said, nodding toward the light at the end of the trees.

"Yes, you can! It's warm there. Come with me."

He shook his head. "My house is just 'round the corner. You'd like it there. Plenty of roses like you. Plenty of birds and trees and sunlight."

"No," she said, confused. "The sun is there." She pointed over her shoulder, but the light was gone. The forest once again seemed to be stretching out far beyond reach of an end. She hadn't realized she had been walking toward Draco the whole time. The clearing wasn't visible in the thickness anymore. She was lost.

"Just a bit closer," cooed Draco. "Everyone is waiting."

Not knowing what to do, Rose walked forward, following Draco. He began to move faster, and she had to jog to keep up. Suddenly, he appeared again, wearing a red suit that she found strangely familiar. He held out his hand, and Rose took it eagerly, glad to have finally caught up. His skin was cold, like he hadn't been in the sun for a very long time.

Rose had only then noticed the other people standing amongst the trees. Her mother, her father, Draco's parents, and a figure she didn't recognize dressed all in black. They were looking at her expectantly, as Draco locked their arms, and walked them forward toward the people.

"Where's Daphne?" Rose asked curiously.

"She doesn't live in the forest," her mother replied in an airy voice that didn't belong to her.

This answer seemed to satisfy Rose just fine. She nodded and looked up at Draco. He looked down at her with a smile, then shifted his gaze over to the dark figure between their parents. Rose did the same, still confused, and wanting to find that light again. It was too cold here.

"Rose," whispered Draco beside her. "I love you, Rose."

The words didn't make sense. It sounded foreign, like he'd spoken in Japanese, and expected her to understand, though she didn't. She raised an eyebrow, but Draco just kept smiling. She heard herself answer.

"I love you, too," she said, but she couldn't feel herself forming the words, and she didn't know what they meant, or why she said them.

"Are you scared?"

"For what?" Rose asked, clueless. "Where's the sun?"

"It doesn't live in the forest," Rose's mother said again in the same airy voice. Rose nodded, content. That made sense.

Once again, everyone turned their attention to the strange figure in black standing before them. She felt herself step forward toward him. A part of her wanted to run, but she couldn't understand why. This is where everyone was, shouldn't she be with them? But that part of her insisted that she should be afraid; she should run. _But I love Draco_, she thought, still not quite understanding what those words meant.

A voice far away called her name, but she wasn't paying attention anymore. There was no need for the light anymore. It was too late. Wanting the light was silly; it doesn't live in the forest.

Pain erupted through her, and she woke, panting.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The title of the chapter, as well as the corresponding line within it, is a tribute to John Green's _Paper Towns_.  
Pick up that book and read it now. Read it or perish.  
Also, review this chapter or perish.


	16. Apparition

**Shades of Grey  
**16. Apparition

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**Disclaimer: **If you want to read along and judge how perfectly canon my fanfic is, this chapter starts on page 381 of the American Edition of Half-Blood Prince. (Technically 382, but if you start on 381, you'll see how canon even the _weather _is, because I'm anal that way.) You can stop following along on page 387. Enjoy!

* * *

The following week was one of strangest weeks Rose had ever had. Daphne still refused to talk to her, and Rose had eventually stopped trying to reason with her irrational friend. Additionally, almost everyone else was acting differently. Blaise was oddly hostile, Crabbe and Goyle uncharacteristically polite, and Pansy unexpectedly distant. In fact, the only person that seemed unaffected by recent events was Theodore Nott—though he did seem to be spending a lot more time with Daphne. Even Draco was acting differently than before. Rose knew that the task of the Vanishing Cabinet was really wearing him down, and she shouldn't blame him for being temperamental, but her patience was wearing thin.

On Saturday morning, everyone—including Rose—woke early in anticipation of their first Apparition lesson. Rose dressed quickly in sweat pants and a Holyhead Harpies shirt before rushing down to the common room. Draco was already waiting for her, looking annoyed.

"Morning," he said in a clipped tone.

"Morning," she replied cautiously. "Is something wrong?"

"Isn't it always?" he muttered, leading her out of the common room, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind, having an argument about the proper way to apply lipstick. The Polyjuice Potion was getting to them.

"Hey, Goyle, I can lend you some pantyhose, if you're in the market," Rose remarked over her shoulder. They shut up.

After breakfast, Rose took Draco outside, hoping to talk to him in private. The ground was wet and muddy, all the snow from the previous weekend having already melted. Upon almost slipping and falling on a patch of mud, Draco cursed and went back inside. Rose followed in defeat. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him at all the past couple of days. He had gone to the Vanishing Cabinet alone several times during the day—skipping class—and didn't ask Rose to come along. The previous night he said he needed to concentrate, and walked off with Crabbe and Goyle in tow as two blonde Ravenclaw second year girls.

It was possible that maybe he did just need to concentrate without her, but Rose had a nagging suspicion it was something else. Or maybe she was just being paranoid, because everyone else seemed to hate her now. Except Crabbe and Goyle, who ran ahead and opened the doors to the Great Hall for them. She stepped into the room she had left just a few minutes ago, and saw that the long House tables were gone. The Heads of Houses and a wispy wizard stood at the front of an assembling crowd. She looked around at the crowd of all the sixth years of Hogwarts. Potter was there with the usual gang of do-gooders. She scowled in their direction—all of this was Potter's fault. Inadvertently, it was all his fault.

"Good morning!" the tiny wizard in front of the professors called. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instruction for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time—"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall.

Rose looked over her shoulder at Draco, who scowled and stepped away from Crabbe, a slightly pink tinge creeping across his cheeks. Rose gave Draco a questioning look, but he shook his head at her, as though she shouldn't concern herself with his conversation. She ground her teeth, and looked back to Twycross, who continued his lecture.

"—by which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests. As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try."

Rose heard Draco grumble something behind her, but couldn't make out the words. She looked over her shoulder again, but all three boys stood in apparent attention.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you."

Rose did as she was told, keeping as close to Draco as she could, so as to listen in on the conversation he didn't seem to want her to hear. She could barely hear Crabbe, who was speaking in a low voice. But Draco, growing impatient, spoke loud enough for her to understand his words. Rose saw Potter coming closer to Draco, and raised her eyebrow.

"I don't know how much longer, all right?" Malfoy shot at Crabbe, not noticing Potter standing right behind him.

Rose tried to get Draco's attention, but he didn't see. She waved her hand at Draco, who still seemed to be arguing with Crabbe, who had stopped responding. She stared at Potter as she began approaching, but he was too focused on Draco's words. _Being very obvious, there, Potty,_ she thought.

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"

"I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," Potter said suddenly.

Draco spun on the spot, and Rose saw his hand fly to his wand. She stepped forward quickly to stop him, as the Heads of Houses shouted, "Quiet!" Everyone stopped talking, and Rose laid a hand on Draco's arm. He turned to face the front, jaw clenched, hand in his pocket, probably still clutching his wand.

"He's not worth it," Rose whispered to him. "Let it go."

"Easy for you to say," he growled under his breath. "One of these days..."

"You'll rip out his entrails. Yeah, got it."

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and went back to her spot, by which a wooden hoop had appeared.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" Twycross went on. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"

Then he explained step-by-step how to Apparate to the interior of their hoops. On the first try, Rose only made a fool of herself, by spinning on her heel too hard and falling over. Draco gave her a mocking look, and she stuck her tongue out at him—which just made her feel more foolish. After a couple of tries, a Hufflepuff—Sarah or Susan, Rose thought her name was—tried to Apparate, and left one of her legs behind. Twycross explained that it was called splinching, and it happened when one wasn't focused on their destination. Everyone was horrified, but Rose and Draco fell together in an uncontrollable fit of muffled laughter.

The rest of the lesson went by without incident; no one had been able to Apparate. Rose felt a twinge of panic that maybe she was physically incapable of Apparating, and suddenly wished she knew more about the theory of Apparition. She walked over to join Draco, Crabbe and Goyle after everyone was dismissed.

"Well that was rubbish," Draco sighed. "Let's get back to the common room, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good. I can't stand being here much longer," Rose answered, but Draco's gaze had fixed elsewhere, and he was grinding his teeth.

"Can you believe him?" Draco said, jerking his chin toward them. "Bloody Potter sticking his nose where it doesn't belong—as usual."

"Ha, yeah, you're surprised?" Rose snorted.

"How did you do?" they heard Weasley ask, running up to his idol. "I felt something the last time I tried—a kind of tingling in my feet."

"I expect your trainers are too small, Won-won," Granger remarked, walking past.

Rose sputtered a laugh. "Looks like trouble in paradise," she chuckled. Even Draco had an amused smile on his face.

"Common room, then?" he said, concealing a smirk.

They all headed down to the dungeons, where the common room wasn't quite full yet, some students still sleeping in late. They spread out on the couches, as was their usual place. The fire was already burning brightly, but the warmth it emitted wasn't enough to prevent the shiver that erupted through Rose.

"I don't think short sleeves were wise today," she said, rubbing her arms. "I need to grab something warmer—back in a minute."

Draco nodded absently, and she rushed to the dormitory. When she entered the room, she found Daphne on her bed, ripping parchment. Trying to ignore her clearly distressed friend,—were they still friends?—Rose rummaged in her trunk and withdrew a grey jumper, which she quickly threw on. She was almost halfway out of the door when her curiosity got the better of her, and she turned around to Daphne.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"No," Daphne replied, throwing bits of paper across her bed. "Not that you care."

"Of course I don't; that's why I'm asking." Rose rolled her eyes, and walked slowly closer.

"Don't you have a blonde to be snogging?" Daphne growled, throwing Rose a scorching glare.

"Fine," Rose snapped, and exited the dormitory. Still fuming, she came to the common room, where she saw Pansy standing over Draco, flailing her arms about as she spoke. Blaise was standing beside her, looking on as if ready to break things up if they got out of hand.

"I just don't understand! Just give it up! I know you hate her; you told me that yourself. Remember? Remember before Christmas holiday when you said she was annoying because she complains too much and only cares about herself? How can you say that and then turn around and marry her? It doesn't make sense. I know you hate her and love me. Just give it up!"

Rose stepped up behind Pansy, crossing her arms. Draco's face seemed to whiten at the sight of her. Pansy turned around, and her face screwed up in an even tighter scowl.

"You! This is all your fault! I don't know what sort of love potion you used on my Draco, but I won't let you get away with this. You mark my words."

"Dear Merlin, please help me I am so afraid. Oh no, whatever shall I do?" Rose said in a flat tone.

" You just wait, Martell."

"I dare you."

And suddenly, with no warning at all, Pansy lunged toward Rose, who flinched. But the impact never came, and when Rose opened her eyes, she saw a pug face snarling just inches from her own. Blaise had grabbed her by the upper arms and was holding her back, like a rabid dog. Rose laughed, and watched as Pansy was carried out of the room to the boys' dormitories by Blaise. The two girls were becoming something of a spectacle in the common room lately, and they had been overdue for an encounter like that one.

"Well that was fun," Rose said, wiping imaginary dust from clothes. "She would have gotten me that time if not for Blaise. I'll be sure to thank him eventually. Draco, a word?"

He stood up rather reluctantly, Crabbe and Goyle following suit, but he waved them down. He and Rose stepped outside into the corridor, and Draco quickly turned to her with a guilty expression on his face.

"About what Pansy said, I only said that about you because—"

Rose held up a hand to stop him. "I don't care about that. Not right now, anyway. I just need to talk to you."

"About what?" He didn't look any less nervous.

"About why you've been avoiding me all week," she answered, trying to catch his gaze, but he refused to look her in the eye.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What aren't you telling me, Draco?"

He seemed like he was going to come up with another lie, but he just sighed and looked her. He struggled for a moment before saying, "I got a letter."

"A letter," she repeated. He nodded. "About what?"

"Do you want to go to the Room of Requirement for this?"

"The what?"

"Room of Requirement. Oh—that's what it's actually called. The Hidden Room. Room of Requirement. Bit of a mouthful, really. Anyway, want to go talk there?"

She agreed, and they both set off to the seventh floor. Halfway up, however, they encountered a Hufflepuff talking to a Ravenclaw against one of the window panes.

"It still hurts a little, like I got a cut and they just put a bandage on it," the Hufflepuff was explaining, and Rose immediately recognized it as the girl that splinched her leg during Apparition.

"Just be glad they were able to fix it," the other girl said as she nodded in sympathy.

"Do you think they would have been able to put her head back on if she splinched it?" Rose said loudly as they passed. "Or would all the air have gotten out and it would have deflated?"

"That's not funny," the Ravenclaw said, standing up. Rose and Draco turned back to look at her. "She could have really been hurt."

"I thought your lot were supposed to be smart—she _did_ get hurt," Rose replied.

"Doesn't surprise me. They'll sort just about anyone just about anywhere these days," Draco answered. "I mean, they've got Longbottom in Gryffindor. Great lump couldn't stand up to a particularly nasty plant if he tried."

"Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Listen, Sarah—"

"Susan."

"Listen, Sarah," she continued, ignoring her, "if you value the rest of your limbs, I'd suggest shutting your yap before I dismember you in a way that they won't be able to fix."

"I think the key is to speak slowly, so they can understand you," added Draco.

"Come on, Susan," the Ravenclaw muttered, leading her friend down the stairs. Rose just laughed at their retreating backs.

"They never put up a proper fight anymore," Draco sighed.

"Still fun, though."

Without warning, Draco grabbed Rose and pulled her into a forceful kiss. They both stumbled a little with the sudden movement and fell against the window. Rose had a fleeting thought of falling through the window and crashing to their deaths, but the thought was smothered out by Draco. After a minute, he pulled back, panting slightly.

"Well that was nice," gasped Rose.

"Just insurance."

"What?"

He didn't answer, just continued on his way to the Room. She jogged after him, asking him what he meant by insurance, but he just continued on without answering her. It wasn't until they were within the depths of the Room, where the Cabinet rested, that he said anything.

"The owl I got was from your father."

"My father was sending _you_ letters?"

He nodded. "He's a bit, er...apprehensive about your joining up—"

"Aren't we all?" she mumbled bitterly.

"Right, right, yeah. So, basically, he wants me to convince you to call it off."

"Call what off?"

He coughed nervously. "Well, um, us."

"Come again?"

He sighed in exasperation. "Okay, here it goes. As per our contracts, you're allowed to call off the engagement if you have a legitimate reason. I mean, I'm sure there's all kinds of other stuff that goes into it, but basically, you can take back your choice. And, well, your father wants you to."

"And if I do, I won't have to be a Death Eater anymore?"

"No, not unless the next person you choose is one, or you just really want to," he answered, smiling at the last part.

"Well, brilliant! I don't see the problem here!"

Draco's face fell. "Oh."

"What?"

"I just thought, you know, that you'd want to stay with me," he whispered.

"Oh," she mimicked. "Oh! Merlin, of course! Draco, I'm sorry, but you have to understand. This is my way out. I have to take it."

"Good to know I mean that much to you, Rose," he scoffed, and turned away from her, finding a need to busy himself with the Cabinet.

"It's not like that, Draco. It's just that this is—"

"Your get-out-of-jail-free card, yeah."

"Quite literally," she added, smiling at the reference to a Muggle children's game. When on holiday one summer in a wood's cabin a long time ago, Daphne found a game someone had left behind. It was called Monopoly and it was played by using funny-coloured _paper_ money, of all things, to buy houses on a board. The entire group of them, including Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, spent an entire day playing, only to find it had been extremely frustrating and completely pointless.

"I'll just go to prison alone, then," Draco said, probably meaning for it to be a joke, but it came out much too seriously.

"I'm sorry," Rose whispered.

"Guess that insurance didn't count for much," Draco added.

"Insurance? You mean that kiss?"

He shrugged, finally turning back to look at her. "I thought maybe you'd remember it and not want to leave. Pretty evident what's important to you now."

"Yeah, nothing special, just my life," she said bitterly. "So sorry to disappoint you, Draco, but I'd rather have my life and freedom."

"Fine, have your so-called freedom. But please just do me a favour—a real favour—and stay a while longer. We've still got a couple of months until your birthday. Give me at least one. I really need you around right now." He gestured to the Cabinet.

She nodded. "Okay." Quiet fell, and Draco turned to continue his work. "I don't really want to do this, you know. But my options are limited. I can't have it all."

There was no reply. She waited a minute longer for him to say something, and when he didn't, she left him alone. Though that was exactly what he didn't want, it was what Rose needed. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, to sort through the jumbled mess in her head. She had her chance—in fact, she was surprised she hadn't thought of it earlier. The part of the contract that allowed her to leave never really registered in her mind before; she had always ignored, because she didn't think it would ever apply to her. Now, though, it was the most important part, and the most deadly.

She could really see a future for herself and Draco. It wasn't exactly smooth flying at the moment, but she knew things wouldn't stay this way forever. She and Daphne would make up, Pansy would get off her back, and everything would be alright. For a while, she had even thought that she could handle being a Death Eater—that maybe it wouldn't be too bad if their side won the oncoming war. But now all of that worry was gone; she had a way out.

And yet, she couldn't make that decision. It seemed so easy when Draco told her. Just break it off, and freedom was hers, but now she wasn't so sure. She hadn't expected Draco's reaction, and thought it was very odd of him. Perhaps he was just feeling extra emotional and sentimental because of the stress his task was putting on him. Or perhaps, Rose thought desperately, _perhaps he really does care for me._ The thought was almost absurd, but the signs were all there, if only just vaguely. Or maybe she was just reading too far into everything.

"Why is this so difficult!" she shouted to the apparently empty dungeon corridor, which she had managed to reach in the time it took her to think through all of that mess—and yet, she still hadn't managed to come to a conclusion.

"If it's walking and breathing at the same time, I expect you're just stupid," a familiar voice said from ahead.

Rose walked forward and saw Daphne leaning against the wall. "Hi."

"Hello."

"What're you doing here?"

"Standing."

"Right."

"You?"

"Going to the common room."

"Cool."

Then silence.

"What's difficult?" Daphne asked.

"Oh, long story."

"I'd like to hear it, if you'd tell me," she said meekly. Rose smiled.

"From the beginning, then?"

"From the beginning."

Rose told her everything. Starting from the disastrous, drunken scene at Malfoy Manor, to the recent events in the Room. She left out what she could about Draco's mission, and Daphne understood that it had to be kept secret. Finally, Rose concluded with her doubts and worries about ending the marriage contract.

"Well, you've got a month, right? I mean, maybe you won't want to by then, or maybe it'll be rubbish, and you will. Who knows."

"I just wish I knew now," Rose groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"That would be too easy. You have to work through it. Give it time—"

Rose let out another loud groan. "That _sucks_.

Daphne nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, it does. Lunch?"

"Please!"

They bounded off to the Great Hall, and stuffed their faces with whatever was within reach, laughing and having a good time. Rose couldn't stop smiling even after the last joke had ended. Daphne was back.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I figured a nice, solid, happy ending to a chapter was long over-due. You're welcome. I only grant you this courtesy because school is starting in two days, and it'll probably be a long while until you get another update. See you then! Leave reviews!


	17. Headache

**Shades of Grey  
**17. Headache

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, I haven't posted since September. That was 5 months ago. That...there's just no excuse for that. BUT I'M BACK AND I'M BADDER THAN EVER. Well, okay, no. If you notice, I started an LJ fic as well on this account. You can read. You don't have to. I don't actually care. This chapter is really short but really insane. So enjoy it!

* * *

Once again, the way she usually did, Rose found herself sitting the Room of Requirement. Only this time, she was alone, having snuck out of the common room just before curfew. The Vanishing Cabinet sat in front of her; the tarp that usually covered it when Draco was away lay in a heap on the floor. Rose stared at it, as though hoping she could simply will it to work and this whole mess could be over. Well, maybe not completely over, but at least it would make things easier. At least Draco would be out of the dark with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Perhaps if Draco were to succeed, Rose would at least be more willing to stay with him and join up with the Death Eaters, because the constant threat would be gone. And if Draco failed, there was no joining up; there was no threat; there was just no Draco—he'd be dead. She shivered.

The faint sound of an opening and closing door sounded from the direction of the Room's entrance. Rose quickly waved her wand to restore the tarp over the Cabinet and dove behind a large pile of boxes. Draco appeared a minute later, dropping his school bag on the floor and setting to work. She waited until he was hidden within the Cabinet before quietly leaving the Room of Requirement.

On her way back to the common room, while thoughts swirled around in her head like angered fairies in a jar, Rose spotted Pansy Parkinson sitting alone in an alcove. The urge to make fun of her became too strong for Rose to overcome and so she approached her, a dozen insults springing to mind.

"Hey Parkinson, did—"

The sentence was cut short by the sight of tears streaking down Parkinson's face. Her eyes were bloodshot and there was an unattractive fluid pooling between nose and upper lip. Rose's brow creased, and she quickly began reconsidering the number of nasty things she was going to say to Parkinson, arranging them to fit this new scenario before her. Before Rose could say anything, Parkinson looked up.

"Get away from me, Martell. I don't have patience for you right now."

Rose scoffed. "As if I care. What—"

"Didn't you hear me? I said go _away_," she spat.

Rose found herself in the air, thrown off of her feet. Her back and head hit the wall, sending a crippling pain through her; she slumped to the ground. Everything went black for a moment, and Rose opened her eyes to an empty corridor. There was the faint sound of receding footsteps. Sparks danced in front of her eyes. She was only out for a second or two, but the throbbing she felt in the back of her head felt like it had been festering for hours. Slowly, carefully, Rose lifted to her feet, wobbling slightly. The walls seemed to spin around her, and she had to grab one for support.

It took several minutes for Rose to stumble her way back to the common room. She tripped and stumbled the whole way, the world a hazy mess. By the time she found herself muttering the password, her vision had cleared, but the pain was still just as prominent as before—if not more. The common room was empty, all of the students having long since gone to bed. The embers of the fire smouldered weakly as though trying against all hope to still burn but losing quickly. Rose took a seat on the couch, too dizzy to keep going.

She'd heard that falling asleep after getting a concussion could put one into a coma. Did she have a concussion? Sure felt like it. Parkinson must have sent her flying at least five feet into the air. Someday she had to get that spell off of her. But right now, the most important was not to fall asleep. She stared at the fire. Whatever she did, she just had...to...not...fall...asleep...

"Rose!"

Rose jumped as Draco's voice startled her. She turned around to see him standing just a few feet away, worry creasing his brow. He walked forward.

"What are you doing here? It's late," he said.

Rose shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," she lied, deciding that she didn't have the energy to tell him about Pansy. "And you? Just getting in?"

He nodded, coming to sit next to her on the couch. He put his hand on top of hers and smiled. She returned it, feeling like her face cracked with the effort. She lifted her other hand to caress Draco's face, feeling the hot, smooth skin. She leaned forward to kiss him, hoping that the feel of his lips on hers would ease away the memories and feelings and pain and hardships. After just a few moments, he pulled away, shaking his head.

"You know that's not safe, right?"

Rose's brows creased. "Not safe?"

Draco continued to shake his head as he stood and disappeared into the passageway for the boys' dormitory. Rose sat on the couch, confused. What did he mean it wasn't safe? What was safe? Honestly, that was just a vague statement in general, because there were many things that weren't safe right now. What did he mean?

Finally Rose decided that maybe some sleep wouldn't be so bad. Her head didn't even hurt anymore. She stood, quite stably, and began making her way to the dormitory. When she opened the door, the room was pitch black, her roommates soundly asleep. When she stepped over the threshold, however, Rose slipped. She fell hard to the floor, landing in something sticky. Mumbling, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "Lumos."

Red. It was red. All over her hands and her pants and the floor. Blood everywhere. Rose stifled a scream. A led weight dropped into the gut as she panned her wand around the room, looking for the source of the fluid. It was absolutely everywhere. All over the floor. It wasn't on her bed, Rose noticed. Nor was it on any of the other beds. Except one. Before the thought even properly registered, Rose was running out of the room. She stopped at the entrance to the common room, doubled over, and vomited.

After taking a minute to compose herself, Rose walked cautiously back into the dormitory, wand light in front of her. She cast the spell out, to examine the room. There wasn't as much blood as she had originally seen. There wasn't a pool of it around the entire room. It was splashed around, some parts mostly bare with a droplet or two. She took a few steps toward the beds, careful to step in as little blood as possible. She approached the blood soaked bed, and nearly threw up again.

There was Daphne, or what used to be Daphne. She was completely split up open, head to crotch, right down the middle. Each of her organs lay almost-dry within her bloodless corpse, acting like a bowl for fruit. The analogy made Rose gag. She noticed that things were out of place. Daphne's heart was where her uterus should be, the brain in place of her spleen, the intestines neatly curled up inside her skull. Everything was shifted around in a random manner, as though for no other purpose than to put them where they didn't belong.

Rose gingerly lowered her hand to rest on Daphne's face, each half of which was lying on the side of the bed like a split watermelon. The food similes were making Rose nauseous. She touched Daphne's cheek, the blood there dry and crusty. Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, irises blank of emotion. Rose had never seen a dead body—especially not one like this. She figured she was taking it better than expected, though maybe that was just the shock. Rose tried to close each of Daphne's eyes like she heard you're supposed to do but the post-mortem paralysis had taken hold and they wouldn't shut easily.

Rose saw that Daphne was naked, even before the slicing. Her clothes were in a bloody heap on the floor, as though having been torn off in haste and discarded. Rose couldn't bear the thought of whoever did this to have taken those clothes off, because there was only one reason he would. As Rose was about to turn away, she saw something on one of Daphne's arms. There, on the skin, a crude mark had been cut. Even with the scratchy and non-too-detailed carving, Rose could tell what it was. A Dark Mark.

Rose turned and ran for the door, one person on her mind. As though reading her thoughts, Draco appeared in the doorway. She ran for him, ready to fall into his arms and beg for help. Beg for him to take her away and never make her come back. Beg for them to run away together. But she stopped just a foot away from him. He stood just on the other side of the threshold, smirking, his white button-up shirt stained with blood. It took Rose a minute to find her voice.

"Draco?" she tried.

He smiled. "Are you okay, baby?"

She shook her head. "What happened?"

"Looks like she finally went too far."

"I…I don't understand."

"I told you," he said seriously. "It's not safe."

"You-you did this?"

He shrugged nonchalantly.

Without another word, Draco walked away, a blade of silver glinting in the palm of his hand. Rose's mind spun. She ran after him, but as she stepped through the door, she fell. She fell for what seemed like forever before finally landing on a soft bed of white.

"She's got some colour back," Draco was saying.

Rose looked up at him, and reeled back. She jumped from the bed and fell to the floor, losing balance. She shuffled backward across the floor in terror, hands scraping on the dirty floor. Her heart hammered like it was trying to force its way out of her chest. Draco started walking forward, Rose panicked, managed to shoot to her feet with a burst of adrenaline, and lunged at Draco. They both fell to the floor, her on top of him. She began to claw at his face with her nails, howling like mad the entire time.

Suddenly hands were on her, pulling her back. She continued to flail, trying desperately to reach Draco and cause him harm, but she was pulled away. The arms restraining her tightened their grip. She couldn't see past the rage clouding her vision. It took nearly ten minutes for everyone to calm her down. Eventually a Full-Body Bind Curse had to be employed.

Rose was laid on the bed, unable to move. After what seemed like forever, the curse was lifted and she felt feeling return to her limbs again, but was too weak and tired to move them. She couldn't hear or care what everyone was saying. She just wanted some sleep.

"Rose," came a voice so familiar, Rose almost started crying.

"Daphne?" she whimpered.

"Rosie, are you alright?"

Rose turned her head to the side to see a familiar head of dark red hair next to her. A smile wider than any she'd ever wielded spread across Rose's face, tears running like a waterfall down her face. She sat up and threw her arms around her best friend, weeping uncontrollably.

"You're alive," she sobbed. "You're alive."

"Of course I'm alive. Rose, honey, I'm fine."

Rose pulled back, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I don't understand, what happened?"

"You've been out for almost three days," Daphne explained, brow creasing. "Don't you remember?"

The memory of Pansy Parkinson throwing her across the room with her wand came rushing back. She stood up, and stumbled to the common room. She sat on the couch, watching the fire.

"I fell asleep," she finally muttered.

Daphne looked apprehensively to someone behind her. "Yes, you had a concussion. A second year found you in the morning."

She shook her head. It was too much to wrap her brain around. But the most important thing she thought before laying her head back down on the pillow to rest was not utter weirdness of it all, but _what did it mean?_


	18. Thoughts

**Shades of Grey  
**18. Thoughts

* * *

Rose shook her head, unable to believe what Daphne was telling her. It made sense, sure, but it had all felt so real. The fear she had felt, the sticky warmth of the blood on her fingers, the putrid smell of Daphne's rotting corpse. It was all so vivid, so real. As much as this reality was a better one, Rose just couldn't believe it. Could Daphne really still be alive? Could she really still be here? She stretched out a hand and touched Daphne's hair. It was brittle, not the soft, silky strands that usually populated Daphne's head. The red of it seemed even darker than usual, bordering on a dark brown. And then the thought came to Rose. _Maybe this is the dream._

Of course it would make more sense for Draco to have killed Daphne in cold blood. He was a Death Eater; that's what they do. But why had he done it? What had he said to her? Daphne had gone too far? Gotten too close? It was one of those clichés bad guys use when they've eliminated someone that was an accessory. But it didn't make any sense because Daphne didn't know anything. She didn't know about Draco or the Vanishing Cabinet or Snape or Dumbledore. None of it. So why her? What had she done? Somehow Rose felt it was all her fault. Her best friend was dead and it was all her fault. Draco was right; it's not safe. No one was safe. Especially not Rose or the people around her. They would all end up like Daphne. But at the hands of Draco? He wasn't a killer.

_Well he is now_.

That wasn't fair. She knew he was just following orders. There's no way he would have wanted to kill Daphne. He liked Daphne; they were friends. Or were they? Was anyone really a friend to a Death Eater? Rose couldn't get the thoughts to organize enough to form a conclusion, and she pulled her hand away from Daphne's unfamiliar hair, smiled as though to reassure her that she believed her, but the smile wasn't genuine, didn't reach her eyes. Daphne noticed this and frowned.

_It's okay_, Rose told herself. _She's not even real. The real Daphne is dead._

"Maybe it's time the two of you went. Let her get some rest."

Madam Pomfrey. Rose recognized her voice, but the tone was a little too soft. Pomfrey was never this gentle with intruding visitors. Her dreams weren't as close to reality as reality, and she was strangely aware of this. Daphne nodded to someone behind Rose, and she turned her head to look. Draco sat on the opposite side of her bed, his brow creased with apparent worry.

Anger boiled up in Rose. How could he do that? How could he kill Daphne? Daphne who had never done a thing against him or anyone—mostly. How could he raise a blade to her and cut her the way he had? Red blood lust clouded Rose's vision, and she lunged toward Draco, screaming bloody murder. She wanted to rip him apart, rip him apart like he had done to her best friend. She wanted him to feel pain like he'd never known. She clawed at him, scratching his face and ripping at his clothes. He fell onto the floor, face bleeding. Hands were holding her back. She tried to squirm, tried to get closer to Draco so she could hurt him. She couldn't get any further. The hands were restraining her, and she realized that she wasn't very strong—dream weakness, like trying to run from a pursuer and not getting any further.

She fell back to the bed. It was pointless. He wasn't even real. When she woke up, she would really take care of him. Pomfrey held Rose down as Daphne and Draco left the hospital wing. Rose wondered if the dream would end now that they were gone, but she had no such luck. She lay motionless in the bed for what seemed like hours,—but that could have been the dream playing tricks on her mind—people coming in and out, Madam Pomfrey bustling around.

Rose soon came to the conclusion that this was by the far the worst dream _ever_. She stayed in the hospital for the rest of the night. Sometime after the sun started coming up, Rose started drifting off, thinking that the dream would finally fade away and end. Her vision began blurring and turning black when she heard voices coming from the direction of the door. She tried to drown them out and slip away.

"You can't come in, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey was saying.

"Just let me see her."

"I can't. Not after the episode we had last night."

"She was delusional then. Just let me talk to her."

"Mr. Malfoy, you need to leave." Pomfrey's voice was stern, much the same way it usually was. Much better than the last time she had spoken. The dream was getting more realistic. She smiled at her mind's improvement as she finally drifted off.

She awoke early the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the Hospital Wing windows and whimpered. Her head throbbed painfully, threatening to rip her skull apart. She groaned and sat up slowly, every part of her feeling sore from sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital cot. As though she had a sixth sense for knowing just when her patients woke up, Madam Pomfrey immediately descended on her.

"How do you feel?"

"Sore."

She nodded knowingly and handed Rose a glass. "Drink this. It's Pepper-Up Potion," she added when Rose wrinkled her nose.

She took the potion and gulped it down. It didn't take long for her to feel the effects. Her muscles began to relax and the tension released from her neck and back. The throbbing in her skull dulled. She set the glass down on the side table and properly sat up in her bed, looking around. The room was bright, a lot different than it was yesterday. Her recollections of the night before seemed to be dim, clouded with a filter screen, making them seem dark.

"Can I go now?"

Pomfrey shook her head. "I do not think so."

"Why not?" she exclaimed, not really wanting to spend any more time in the sterile room and scratchy sheets.

"Miss Martell, you spent the better part of last night muttering about dreams and illusions. I do not think you are in your right mind."

"I am perfectly fine," she said angrily, throwing the sheets off of herself and getting up from the bed. She swayed slightly on her feet before finding her balance. "You can't force me to stay here."

Pomfrey shrugged dejectedly. "I would just like to advice caution."

"Noted," Rose snapped, then turned on her heel and exited the Hospital Wing.

The truth was, she could remember just exactly Madam Pomfrey was referring to. Not only could she remember thinking that she was asleep all of last night before actually falling asleep, she could also remember why. She fought to convince herself that she was sleeping while simultaneously convincing herself that the alternate reality was the real one. Why would she wish that? Wouldn't a normal person cling to the reality of her best friend being alive and boyfriend not being a cold-blooded killer? Why had she tried so hard to tell herself that her dream was real? And at that moment, a thought came unbidden to her mind.

_Maybe it's because it would be easier that way._

Rose shuddered at herself for even thinking it. No, it would not be easier that way. What on earth would possess her to think that? She would not rather Daphne be dead, not for anything. As for Draco…well that's a possibility she didn't want to go anywhere near, because it was a possibility that was very, very likely. Admittedly, Rose was sure he would never resort to the kind of killing that she had dreamt of, but that didn't mean he wouldn't resort to killing. In fact, isn't that what he was currently working towards—murder?

Before the thoughts could work themselves out, she ran straight into the devil himself. Draco wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"I was so worried," he murmured. "Are you okay?"

Rose nodded numbly, not trusting herself to speak aloud. Draco squeezed her tightly. Warmth swelled up inside of her, mingled with just the slightest cold of dread. She couldn't get the image of him from the dream out of her head. She pictured him standing in the doorway of the dormitory, his eyes dead and his face completely void of all emotion, the knife glinting in his grip. She could almost hear his voice, cold and detached. She shivered at the memory. She gathered herself and looked up at him, a weak smile on her lips.

"Rose, what happened?"

She shook her head. "Parkinson…"

His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. "I told you not to fight with her, Rose. You're lucky both you didn't—"

"I didn't do anything! I barely said two words to her and she hexed me across the corridor!"

"I'll talk to her."

"No, forget it," she shook her head. "It's not even worth it. I'm fine."

"Rose, you were just in the hospital for four days. That's not okay."

"I'm fine," she snapped, pulling away from his grasp.

It was strange, because normally Rose would have been the first one to track down Parkinson and hex the living daylights out of her, but not today. The last thing Rose wanted now was to pick a fight with her. She looked at Draco, her eyes still narrowed. He looked confused and a little taken aback. She realized how short she had just been with him, but something was making her irrationally angry with him. She needed to calm down. The dream wasn't real. It wasn't real.

_It wasn't real_, she repeated in her head.

"Rose," he stepped forward tentatively, holding his hand out toward her, "is everything alright?"

She shook her head. "No, it's really not, Draco."

She stepped forward and let him wrap his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest.

"Nothing's alright at all."

**. . .**

It took Rose the entire week to return back to normal. Every night when she went to sleep, she could see the images from her dream behind her eyelids. The nightmares plagued her to the point where she stopped sleeping. The following weekend, Rose didn't sleep all three nights, and when she finally passed out in the middle of Charms, nearly setting a bookcase on fire, Draco put his foot down and made her explain herself. She told him about the dream and what she thought lay in their future. All of her fears about him. He didn't have much of a response. Mostly he murmured words of reassurance, but he didn't actually tell her she was wrong, and Rose knew why—because she wasn't. But after that day, he had let her spend the night with him in the boys' dormitory, which kept the nightmares away for the most part. When they returned, he would wake her and assure her that it was just a dream. They spent all of the following week that way before Rose was ready to return to her own bed. She didn't want to continue this way, with nightmares that made little sense invading her slumber. She tried her hardest to do everything that would prevent them from coming, but they still did. She learned to turn her back on them, though. Eventually, she woke up in the morning, not remembering anything she dreamt, which was much preferable.

Other than her lack of sleep and constant nighttime terror, the three weeks following the episode passed without real incident. It was back to normal, for the most part. Rose continued to accompany Draco to the Hidden Room on regular occasions. They kissed, they fucked, they bickered. Daphne was as alive and well as ever, finally adjusting to having to share her best friend with someone else. But Rose suspected that she took advantage of the time apart to get closer to Theodore Nott, whom she seemed to be spending an awful lot of time with. Yeah, everything seemed to be going well, until it all fell down again on the first of March.

Rose sprinted up the stairs to the seventh floor, her heart racing and hands balled up into fists. She stomped down the familiar corridors to where she knew the two second year girls standing in the hallway were Crabbe and Goyle on Polyjuice Potion. As they saw her approaching, eyes flashing with undeniable rage, they stepped aside, letting her entire the room hidden in the apparently solid wall. She slammed the door to the Room of Requirement shut and stormed through the stacks of miscellaneous items until she came upon the blonde boy she was looking for. He was sitting on the ground, scribbling in a notebook, his tongue between his teeth in concentration, robes discarded on the floor beside him. He looked up as she approached, grinning, but his smile quickly fell as he saw her expression, and he got to his feet. As he was about to open his mouth to speak, Rose slapped him hard across the face.

"What the bloody hell!" he shouted, grasping his cheek.

Rose's hand burned from the contact, but she didn't pay it any mind. Her chest heaved as she breathed heavily, her eyes narrowed at the wizard in front of her.

"You are possibly the dumbest fucking person on the planet."

"Thanks very much, love," he said sarcastically. "What's crawled its way into your arse?"

"I was just strolling past the Hospital Wing and _guess what I found out_?"

Draco shrugged.

"Ron Weasley has been _poisoned_," she said, and waited for his reaction. Draco paled a little but said nothing. She added, "By some faulty mead."

"Oh fuck," he whispered.

"I knew it! Would you mind telling me what that's about, Malfoy!"

"Okay, okay, it's not what you think!" he began, holding his hands out as though warding her off.

"No? Because the way I understand it, you thought you could slip some poisoned mead to Slughorn and he would give it to Dumbledore."

"Oh," he stepped back. "I guess it is what you think."

She hit him again. She continued to hit him, pushing him back against the Cabinet as she did. Her fists, nails, palms hit him repeatedly on the face, chest, arms. He was scratched and bruised and red from her abuse but she wouldn't let him stop her. Finally he managed to grab both of her wrists without being attacked by her nails. He held her tightly and she thrashed around, tears falling freely down her face.

"Let me go, you bloody moron! Let me go!"

"So you can hit me some more? Not likely," he scoffed. "Stop it, Rose. Stop it."

She collapsed onto him, helpless. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her. She took the opportunity to try to hit him again, but he stopped her before she could. Knowing that she did as much damage as she could manage, she settled for kissing him.

"You're so fucking stupid," she cried, kissing him between her words. "What happens when you get caught, Draco? Why are you such a moron?"

"Rose, please calm down. It's not a big deal, okay? They won't know it's me."

"Of course they will, don't be even more stupid! Don't you know Potter is going to automatically assume it's you? And Dumbledore always listens to Potter. You'll be out of here by morning, I just know it."

"Rose," he said sternly, pulling her back and holding her at arms' length by her shoulders. "Listen. I won't get caught, okay? It was a stupid plan. It was a pretty last-ditch kind of plan. I didn't think it through. It was stupid. I get it. Now will you please calm down?"

She slumped to the ground, defeated. This had not at all gone the way she had expected it to. She envisioned beating him until he agreed that yes, she was right and maybe they were in danger. And maybe they should both just run away and never look back. That he'd abandon this whole Death Eater thing and they'd run away somewhere safe where no one can ever find them. Maybe the actual outcome was a little more realistic, but she much preferred her imagined one.

"I just can't lose you now. Not now. We're so very close to just making it all work, you know?"

Even as she said that, she knew it was a load of bollocks. They couldn't make it work. He was still a Death Eater and she still either had to make the same allegiance or…or she had to leave him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to consider the second option with each passing day. At this point, she wasn't really sure how she could leave him. They had been through so much in the past few months, and she knew there were even more hardships ahead. But the thing was, she wanted those hardships. She could envision herself facing them with Draco, but without him…she just couldn't see it. It had become so normal for her to sit in this room and watch him work on the Vanishing Cabinet—which was getting closer to being finished every day, even if it did still explode on occasion. Being with him was something she was used to now, and she didn't really want to give that up. But the possible bleakness of her future with him still sent a shiver up her spine. She just couldn't be that type of person. She couldn't.

"You won't," he assured her, gathering her in his arms. "You won't lose me."

Rose looked up at him. She looked right into his eyes and searched them to see if he was saying that sincerely or simply placating her. In the meantime, though, she got lost in the oceans of silver and found herself drawing closer to him. Their lips met gently at first but then she realized just how much she actually wanted to kiss him and tangled her fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. Pretty soon their kissing turned into a much more heated affair. They shed their clothes one at a time. He lay atop her on the floor of the Room of Requirement. She looked up at the sweat matting his blonde hair to his forehead and down to his bare torso hovering above her own and couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in imagining the loss of it.

She grabbed the back of his head to bring his lips down to hers as he picked up a steady pace inside of her. She let moan after moan escape her lips, her nails making crescent-shaped impressions in his back. Their breathing increased and after a few minutes, she screamed loudly, his name leaving her throat over and over as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. Draco collapses atop her, then rolled over to the floor, and as Rose leaned over to place her head on his chest, one very distinct thought ran through her mind.

_I have to leave him._


	19. Beginning of the End

**Shades of Grey  
**19. Beginning of the End

* * *

She avoided him. It was an immature decision, but it was becoming increasingly hard to face him when her resolution lingered in the back of her mind. He wanted so much to make it work, and she could see the struggle growing behind his eyes each time she saw him working on the seventh floor. The bags under his eyes had started to shrink in the past couple of weeks, and she thought that maybe things were finally getting better. After just a couple of days of keeping her distance from the blonde wizard, however, she saw clearly that it was not the case. She noticed that he did worse when she wasn't around. Most times, he never came back to the dungeons for some sleep and began missing classes more frequently. Rose had been doing a good job of motivating and convincing him to keep a steady schedule of sleeping and eating, but without her around to nag him to leave the Hidden Room, he kept himself holed up in there for endless hours.

She watched as he collapsed onto the couch of the common room. It was three o'clock in the morning; Rose had stayed to wait for him. Just as she was about to fall asleep in the armchair in the corner, she heard the stone wall slide open and Draco come stumbling in. He hadn't noticed her lounging in the shadowy common room, the fire having burned out. He fell flat on his stomach, face hitting the seat with a muffled groan. Slowly and silently, Rose stood from her place and went to stand over him, leaning on the back of the couch.

"Draco," she mumbled quietly.

He jumped to his feet, startled. Rose nearly gasped aloud at his appearance. It was worse than she'd seen him in a while, and the sight made her stomach turn. She inhaled a calming breath, taking the time to notice that it was all superficial. The red streak across his cheek was a fairly shallow cut that could easily be healed by a simple spell. His hair was splattered not with blood, but with dark reddish-brown paint. The tear in his shirt hadn't bruised him, but left a scorch mark on his skin that could surely just be washed away. The bags under his eyes weren't as prominent as they first appeared—most of it was dirt and dust that had collected there. Though, she couldn't help but notice the darkness of his irises. The steely gray was clouded over with a stormy murkiness that made Rose's heart clench.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, pulling Rose from her thoughts.

"I'm waiting for you," she replied somewhat bitterly, vexed that he was being short with her.

"Why?" His tone smoothed.

She sighed, not really sure where to begin answering. The words were sitting on the edge of her tongue, but she couldn't bear to utter them, not now. Not with him in this state. Now that she thought about it, she didn't really know what her plan was. Did she expect to corner him as he came back from the Room of Requirement in the middle of the night and inform him that she was going to cut off their contract? Just like that? No, it wouldn't be that simple. After everything the two of them had been through, it would be much harder to end it than she would have liked.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek, trying to figure out a way to continue. If she couldn't tell him about her plan now, then what else was she supposed to say? It was three in the morning. She had to have stayed up for some reason, right? Maybe she should just come out and say it. What's the worst than could happen? Well, maybe she didn't want to think about the worst. She opened her mouth to answer, but the words refused to tumble out. She didn't _want_ to say it. She didn't want to be the one to say that they can't be together anymore. She didn't want to ruin everything.

"Rose, are you still alive in there?" he waved a hand in front of her face, and Rose realized she had fallen silent with her thoughts for too long.

"I just—I had to talk to you, but it can wait."

His brow creased in confusion and intrigue, and Rose cursed herself for her choice of words. Draco reclaimed his seat on the sofa and patted the space next to him for Rose to sit down. Taking a deep breath, she complied, seating herself as far from him as the small space would allow. There was a tension in the air that Rose had a curious thought only she could feel. The weight of her decision was weighing heavily on her, constricting her throat and making her head spin.

_Just spit it out_, she scolded herself. _The longer you keep it from him, the worse it's going to be._

"Alright, out with it," he ordered, crossing his arms and staring at her defiantly.

Rose inhaled deeply, holding the breath in her lungs, hoping it would help the words come out of her mouth. "I'm taking the offer," she mumbled in a rushed tone.

Her gut froze into an icy pool of regret as she uttered the sentence, and she hoped that it was too low for him to understand. Merlin help her, let him not have heard it. She would have given anything to take those words back now, but it was too late. Draco was on his feet, outrage splashed across his face. Rose closed her eyes.

_Please let this be a dream._

"What do you mean you're taking the offer?" he spat, his voice quavering.

She steeled herself to continue; it was too late to backtrack anyway. "I've given it a lot of thought, Draco, and…and I think that it would be best if we cancelled the contract."

Draco shook his head, his hands going to his hair in frustration. He turned on the spot and paced back and forth a few steps. Rose's heart hammered against her chest so hard, she was afraid it was visible through her uniform. She picked at her nails for something to do as he walked in circles in front of the couch, muttering to himself. Finally, after what felt like the longest minute, he turned to her.

"How long have you known?"

Rose raised her eyebrow, not really understanding the question. His eyes blazed with fury and she just wished that he would calm down and let her explain, but that would probably not do any good. Really, what would she be able to accomplish? He wouldn't see reason. And there was no reason why he should. His fate was already sealed, and it would take a lot more than a simple explanation to make him see that she still had a choice that she needed to take before it was too late. He never had a choice.

"Wh-what?" she stuttered.

"How long?" he roared. "When did you decide this? How long have you been waiting to tell me? Leading me on?"

She was on her feet now. "No, no! That's not how it is, and you know it. I wasn't leading you on!"

"No?" he questioned, stepping away from her. "Then what would you call it? Lying to me?"

"Draco," she said softly, reaching her hand out to him, but he recoiled from it. "Draco, you know why I have to do this. You have to understand! It was always coming, you knew that. You're overreacting."

"I'm overreacting? Rose, where does this leave me?"

His voice cracked at the end of the sentence and took Rose's heart with it. She saw in his eyes the hurt and broken trust that she'd caused. This had turned into a little more than just a friendship or a fling or a contract. It had turned into a relationship, and she was too blind to see that. She was too blind to realize that she was more than just a comforting companion to him now. But she refused to believe that her decision was selfish; refused to call it that.

"I don't know," she whispered honestly. "But it leaves you without me. I'm sorry, but I can't in good conscience let this option go. I can't risk my life for you anymore. I just—I have to. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," he scoffed, turning his back. "Go, take the offer. Just leave me the bloody hell alone from now on."

"Draco—," she started, taking a step toward him, but thinking better of it and holding her ground. "Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," he spat at her over his shoulder. "You made this decision. You made it on your own without me. I'm not doing anything. I'm just doing as you wish."

She opened her mouth to respond, to protest, but he left then. He strode into the passageway of the boys' dorm without even looking back at her, and Rose crumpled to the ground, knowing that he was right. She should have spoken to him about it first; had a logical argument and weighed the pros and cons like adults. Instead, she made the decision to break his heart on her own. How was she to fix this now? What could she do?

Angry at herself, Rose spun on her heel and stalked from the common room. It was the middle of the night and she'd have detention for a week if she was caught, but she didn't even bother taking caution as she stomped through the empty hallways. She practically sprinted up the stairs to the deserted seventh floor corridor. Her blood pounding in her ears, she walked in front of the blank wall to the Room of Requirement three times before a door appeared and she threw it open, running inside. The familiar mountains of forgotten things loomed over her in menacing shadows as she weaved her way through the obstacles the room provided.

Pausing at the cabinet, she drew in a deep breath and pulled down the tarp that covered it, coughing as the motion raised dirt up from the floor. Something about the way the black structure loomed over her made her gut grow cold. But she had to do something. She had to change the way things were. The only thing she didn't know—and didn't take the time to think about between her split-second decision to come here and the time it took her to get all the way upstairs—was what exactly her plan was. To help Draco with the cabinet and make it easier for him to finally fix it, thereby leaving him to complete the Dark Lord's task as instructed...or to jeopardize his attempts and give the other side an advantage in winning?

Rose nearly shuddered at the thought of siding with Potter and his band of misfit do-gooders, but there was something much more important on the line than her pride right now. Though, admittedly, her pride wasn't something very easy to let go. She let out long, low breath and retrieved her wand from her pocket. Opening the door to the cabinet, she stepped inside. Once in there, she realized she had no idea where to even start or what to do. Honestly, how do you repair a broken magical cabinet?

Lost for an idea, she stepped back out and looked around, finding a stack of books on the floor. Parchments stuck out from the pages and Rose quickly crossed to them, picking the top one up in her hand. Draco's notes were scribbled in the margins and drawn on the papers. She sat down, crossing her legs, and began reading the text.

Most of it was boring; filled with facts and incantations that didn't make much sense to her. She noticed that Draco was pretty good at math, by the impressive calculations on the parchments. She tried to make sense of them, but it wasn't her strong suit and it mostly just looked like a jumble of number and symbols. The spells also looked like gibberish. Rose wasn't the best student, but she could usually recall all or most of the spells they'd learned in school, and not a single one of these had ever been mentioned in a single class. She gaped at the complexity of the wand movements and magic involved, revelling at Draco's ability to not only comprehend them, but perform them.

Through the night, her eyes threatened to glue shut, but she ignored the lethargy, confident that she would be able to spot something Draco had missed that would help him. The effort was completely fruitless, though, as she had a hard time understanding what Draco understood, let alone anything more. Before she knew it, the sun had come up and the morning arrived. She checked her watch and noticed that it was nearly 7am. Yawning and stretching, she put the books and parchments that she had scattered all over the floor at her feet back to their place and trudged tiredly from the Room of Requirement. Her search had failed to produce any results, but she certainly got a mindful of just how difficult Draco's task really was. And that was excluding the assassination of Albus Dumbledore.

She felt a wave of guilt overcome her at the thought. Had she really been so selfish and insensitive? Had she turned a blind eye to what was really going, and only thought about herself? As much as she wanted to refuse to believe that, a voice in the back of her head told she'd been a bitch. Pure a simple; she'd been a bitch.

_No,_ she scolded herself. She made a choice—a difficult choice—to save her life. How can she be blamed for looking out for herself? More important than anything else was her life, right? What could be more important than that? Or, rather, who?

_No one._

She shook her head, trying to clear it of all the thoughts jumbling up inside her head, but it was futile. The thoughts kept rising to the surface no matter how much she tried to push them down. She refused to be stricken by guilt. This was all Draco's fault to begin with. If he hadn't taken the damn job, neither of them would have this problem.

Even as she thought that, she knew it wasn't fair. There were circumstances. Circumstances that would have forced even Rose to take the Mark. His family…

"Rose!"

She spun around to see a short head of dark red hair running towards her. Rose forced her face into a smile as Astoria Greengrass approached her, doubling over slightly and looking flushed from running.

"Merlin, Rose. I've been calling you for like five minutes! Are you sleeping or something?"

Rose shook her head with a chuckle. "Sorry, Astoria. What do you need?"

She scratched the back of her head. "You wouldn't happen to have your notes or, ahem, essays from last year, would you? Specifically from Charms?"

"Lucky for you," Rose laughed, "Charms happens to be my best class, and I'm sure it's at the bottom of my trunk somewhere. Let's have some breakfast and then we'll stop by the common room and I'll look for it. Anything in particular?"

"The Aguamenti spell?"

Rose nods. "That one's not that hard."

They entered the Great Hall together and made their way to the Slytherin table. Rose immediately noticed that Draco was not present as she sat down, with Astoria next to her. Sighing and piling a stack of pancakes on to her plate, she turned back to Astoria, who had decided to turn the topic from Charms.

"So you and Draco Malfoy, huh?"

Rose almost blushed, and simultaneously felt a lead weight of guilt drop into her stomach. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You guess so? Rose, seriously, if I were you I'd be a little more excited about that."

Rose raised an eyebrow at the younger witch. "Oh really?"

She nodded, chewing on a waffle. "Oh yeah," she answered with a half-full mouth. "I mean, he's gorgeous, innit? And there's just something about him..."

Rose's eyes narrowed involuntarily. It was an instinctual reaction, but it made her falter. She relaxed her face and managed a small smile to Astoria, whose eyes seemed to flash with an emotion that Rose couldn't immediately place; she was a little preoccupied with her reaction to Astoria's comment about Draco. Did she have the right to be jealous when she was so willing to throw away her relationship with him?

Not that she _was_ throwing it away. It was for a very good reason. But at the same time, it made her feel like there was a stronger emotion at play here. She took a long swig of orange juice to try and clear her thoughts. She was being silly. It didn't matter. It was over. Astoria could have him if she wanted him.

"Rose? Are you still with me?"

"Oh, right, yeah, something about him."

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Fine, fine," she replied off-handedly.

Rose ate the rest of her breakfast in silence, and when she returned to the common room to give Astoria her notes on the Aguamenti spell and any other notes and essays she still had, she did it with a stiff demeanour, feeling an unfair coldness toward the redhead. She slumped on to one of the couches in the common room, knowing that she'd be late for Potions, but not really wanting to go. She lay her head down on the arm of the leather sofa and felt herself drift off to sleep, desperate to get some shut eye after her all-nighter in the Hidden Room.

"Rose, wake up!"

Someone was shaking her awake violently. She groaned and swatted at them, groaning and turning over. They shook her again. She felt the palm of her hand collide with a face, and the person let out a hiss of pain.

"For fuck's sake, Martell. Wake up."

"Leave me alone. It's Saturday," she groaned.

"No," the voice insisted. "It's nearly noon on Thursday."

Then Rose was uncomfortably aware of her surroundings. She'd fallen asleep in the common room, and missed all of her morning classes. That wouldn't bode well with the professors. Maybe she could convince them she was sick.

"Ugh, sorry, Blaise," Rose groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "Must've dozed off...for a couple of hours."

He chuckled and took a seat next to Rose, who moved over to make room for him. He put his arm casually over the back of the couch and crossed his legs.

"Not sleeping, Martell?"

"Have a lot on mind," she replied slowly.

"This anything to do with Malfoy? He seemed pretty out of it today, too."

"Well first, Malfoy always looks out of it. And second,—not that it's any of your business— but we...er, broke up."

Blaise froze for a full second before his eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?"

Rose nodded reluctantly. The words felt strange on her tongue. It wasn't even the phrase itself, but the simple fact that she had thought her and Draco would be forever. Their fates were sealed, and now they were quite simply broken. The concept was heart-wrenching and she didn't want to think about it. Cursing Blaise for interfering and making her say it, she picked at her fingernails, avoiding his gaze.

"That's too bad," he said sincerely. But as soon as he did, the sympathy was gone from his eyes and he leaned forward, suddenly very much invading Rose's personal space. "So does that mean you're free?"

Rose wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, go away, Blaise."

"Oh come on. Martell, you can't stay single forever."

"A _day_ would be nice, Zabini," she retorted, placing her hands on his chest and trying to push him away, but she stopped.

A thought occurred to her. Blaise was right; she couldn't be single forever. Her time was quickly running out, and she would have to pick someone sooner or later, and she should have known that that someone would have to be Blaise. Who else was there besides him? It was definitely too soon to move on from Draco, but the fact of the matter was, she didn't really have the time to mourn her relationship. The decision came quickly, and she regretted it later, but at that moment, the logical side of her brain won.

"On second thought," she muttered, and without finishing her sentence, grabbed Blaise by the neck and brought his lips down to her own.

He felt different than Draco. He moved with a sort of rigidity that wasn't present in her kisses with Draco, who was much more fluid in his movements. Though she hated to compare the two men, the desire to do so came almost instantly. At this point, Draco would have wrapped his fingers around her neck, holding her face in place as his tongue swirled around hers, but Blaise had instead gripped Rose's shoulders, pulling her closer. The kiss wasn't unpleasant in the least, but she had gotten so used to Draco's kisses, that the difference was unwelcome. Still, she pushed her thoughts out of her mind and wrapped her hands around Blaise's neck, deepening their kiss. This went on for a few minutes before she finally pulled back.

"Not a word from you, Zabini," she warned, her face flushed from the heated exchange.

"How about two?" he breathed. "Bloody hell."

Rose smirked, and stood up, stretching her back. "Much obliged, Blaise. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go grab some lunch and head off to whatever classes I have left. I'll see you around."

She gave him a knowing look before exiting the common room swiftly.

**. . .**

Draco clenched his fists and ground his teeth as he watched the scene lay out before him. Blaise waking Rose from what was a very fitful nap; Blaise sitting next to her, his arm around the back of the couch behind her head; Blaise leaning into her; Blaise kissing her, touching her. Draco's blood boiled. He could hardly keep his emotions in check. How could she have done it? But then, Draco of course knew the answer. That was just the kind of person she was: an evil bitch, to put it simply. He looked down and noticed that he had ripped up the parchment he had been holding his hand. Of all the times he could have chosen to emerge from his dormitory, it had to be at that very moment. Of course it had to be, because if it wasn't, he would have been a lucky man, and that was one thing he was not. If only he's slept in five minutes longer, he could have been spared the sight of what had just occurred.

He took a deep breath and walked out from the shadows of the passageway to the boys' dormitory and into the common room. He walked right past Blaise's lounging form on the couch on which he'd just shared his kiss with Rose. Trying very hard not to turn around and punch him in the face, Draco proceeded outside and took a very long walk to clear his head, which just left him with more seething thoughts of what he'd seen.


End file.
